Recipe for Love
by iGoToExtremes
Summary: Random one-shots of NYC future!Finchel featuring Chef!Finn and Broadway!Rachel.
1. Buona Notte

A/N: Even though it'll never measure up to the other fantastic stories out there, I've decided to start a multi-chaptered NYC future!Finchel. I've had the idea for this first installment for a while, which essentially turned into an intro chapter for the world I envision for them. Additional chapters will jump around in time a bit.

Much thanks to the fabulous Skyedrgn, who came up with the idea for Finn's occupation. It's so fitting I can't believe no one else has written it yet! Also thanks to the numerous individuals who I bounced ideas off of in preparation for this fic.

Finally, story is rated T for now, but it'll eventually change to M. Obviously. ;-)

Enjoy!

* * *

_"What day is it?  
And in what month,  
This clock never seemed so alive.  
I can't keep up  
And I can't back down  
I've been losing so much time…"_

Finn sat in the nearly-empty subway car, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in an attempt to wind down after a busy day. He'd staffed a fancy business luncheon event that the restaurant had catered and then worked the dinner shift. It was only his sixth week there but he was already assistant manager of catering and served as sous chef several nights per week. The whole arrangement was exhausting, especially considering how competitive the culinary field could get at times.

He had no idea how Rachel did it. Her industry was just as busy and volatile as his and yet she took everything in stride, going on audition after audition, even if she already had work. In between acting and singing gigs she worked as a vocal coach for kids, which involved shlepping all over the city.

And at home, she was totally on top of things, making to-do lists and calendaring all of their professional obligations and social plans. One of the greatest embarrassments of Finn's life was that he had a college degree in management (okay, "_culinary arts and food service_ management") and his actress/music-teacher girlfriend kept track of their finances. She insisted that it was just easier – since starting college she'd been tracking her own with an insanely detailed spreadsheet that made Finn's head spin whenever he tried to look at it.

Lately she also seemed to be doing a lot of chores that Finn had actually taken charge of when he joined her in New York roughly a year and a half ago. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't have time for those tasks, but he just felt overwhelmed by the new schedule. When he was first starting out, interning or doing random work here and there, it had been easier to fit in the grocery shopping or whatever random errands needed to get done, and he was eager to get them done as quickly as possible. Now, though, he put off every little task, chore, and errand whenever he could.

Rachel's determination and work ethic were always admirable, especially to Finn, but hard to relate to. She had been driven and ambitious since birth, it seemed, and she literally couldn't comprehend that other people weren't the same way. A few times he tried explaining how he was still finding himself professionally and that after a particularly stressful day or some harsh criticism it was hard not to doubt that he could actually do this. She went on some diatribe about how criticism is merely an involuntarily-provided motivational tool.

Finn smiled at the memory of her rant as he exited the train and climbed the steps from the station to trudge along the snow-lined Brooklyn sidewalk towards their apartment. She was really the best thing about his life, which was a scary thought. Finn loved his career choice and was excited for the future and the possibilities ahead of him. But Rachel was in the process of living out the dream she'd had since she was a toddler, and Finn couldn't help but feel secondary to it sometimes. He knew that Rachel loved him (and it was getting to be time for discussion of the M-word, he was well aware) and she encouraged his career wholeheartedly. But he felt like they were just on this career-pursuit treadmill and weren't really experiencing life to its fullest. He wasn't unhappy, necessarily, but something was missing that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He entered their small brownstone building and climbed the narrow stairs to the third floor. Unlocking the door marked 3B, he was surprised when he entered their apartment and saw an uncorked bottle of merlot on the counter next to a plate of cheese, crackers, and grapes. Rachel wasn't due home for another hour, after some evening repertory theater workshop or something. She always left him little notes and a goody or two. But he hoped that the wine hadn't been uncorked for 5 hours - that was just gross. (Whilst a culinary student Finn became a total wino. His beer-swilling high school football teammates would so kick his ass if they knew of this development. Hell, if it was possible his 15-year-old self would probably join in.)

As he examined the wares and shed his overcoat he noticed the light from the bedroom. "Rach?"

There was some shuffling and then her small form appeared in the dining area.

"Hi!" she said brightly, stretching upward to kiss him while he unbuttoned his white chef's coat and threw it on the back of a barstool.

"What are you doing home? I didn't expect you until 11:30." He poured each of them a glass of wine, swirling one of them around before raising it to his face to sniff the aroma. Then he drank a large gulp, closing his eyes as he swallowed it.

"I skipped the theater workshop." She made a face when he gulped. "…which is proving to be a wise decision so that I can be here to monitor your descent into alcoholism," she continued sassily, earning an eye-roll from her boyfriend.

In reality she had skipped it because Finn had seemed somewhat down lately and she thought a relaxing evening together might do him some good. "Come sit on the couch," she instructed, taking the plate of snacks and her glass.

Finn was happy Rachel surprised him, her criticism of his eager wine consumption notwithstanding. He sat next to her on their large orange sofa and set his glass and the wine bottle on the coffee table so he could remove his shoes.

"Seriously, I wanted to see you and hear about what's going on at work and everything. We haven't just sat around and talked in what feels like forever." She positioned a throw pillow next to her.

Finn nodded approvingly, practically inhaling a few crackers and cheese slices at the same time. She was right. They were fortunate enough to have relatively similar schedules and therefore spent a fair bit of time around the apartment together. But often they were doing their own thing and just happened to be in the same room. They always made time for intimate encounters of the naked variety, but even Finn acknowledged that those activities weren't a substitute for emotional interaction or whatever girly stuff Rachel was always talking about.

"I dunno, Rach," he began after washing his cheese and crackers down with another sip of wine. "Work is pretty good. I really like both the catering management and the time in the kitchen. Cecil is crazy, but that's something I'll just have to deal with... and for some reason I'm able to handle him better than most people."

Rachel laughed at the mention of Finn's boss, the restaurant's executive chef. He was at least 80 years old, very accomplished and still very spunky, but seemingly the most stubborn person to walk the face of the earth - and coming from Rachel Berry, that said something.

"It's just, like, I realize that I'm SO lucky, and I want to make the most of it, you know? I feel bad that I haven't been pulling my weight around here lately. I hate the idea of putting more pressure on you."

Rachel reached up to stroke Finn's cheek lovingly. "Oh, please don't worry about that. We're a team, you and me! Remember last year when I was in the ensemble of that weird Off-Broadway reimagination of _Guys and Dolls_ AND assistant-directing the PS 43 musical? You did all the laundry, cleaning, cooking – "

"Damn straight," Finn interrupted.

"—and all the other household tasks for three weeks. We pick each other up, and I'm happy to do my part in getting you situated in your career."

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her as a show of appreciation. Meanwhile Rachel couldn't help but feel like SHE was the lucky one to have snagged such a sweet and determined man. Even when things were bothering him, Finn always thought only of her. (A far cry from high school when he seemed to flip-flop from being head-over-heels in love with her to only caring about his popularity for not apparent reason.)

"So you're looking for some way to make life more fulfilling." She sipped some wine, then popped a few grapes in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

Finn shrugged, eating a slice of cheese by itself since the crackers were already gone.

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed suddenly. "What about engaging in a stimulating hobby? All you do for fun is tinker with your fake sports teams," she said pointedly.

"_Fantasy _sports, Rach." During baseball season he was involved in three different leagues, the most elaborate of which even involved trade talks and "winter meetings" during the off-season. He was also the commissioner of his college's NYC alumni fantasy football league, which was keeping him plenty busy at the moment. But the season was almost over, so he could use something to fill the time.

Rachel had immediately began rattling off a list of suggestions, almost as though she didn't hear Finn correcting her. "We could take a pottery class together! Or volunteer to read to children or senior citizens!"

He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, even if those activities sounded super lame.

"Oh! I know!" she exclaimed after another moment of thoughtful grape-eating. "We can learn to speak a foreign language together! Like… Italian!"

"I already _know _Italian... sort of..." Finn began.

"You've said yourself that you speak 'chef Italian.' Knowing the names of every type of pasta ever conceived hardly makes for linguistic proficiency."

Finn contemplated her statement, tilting his head to the side slightly. "It would give me a leg up on possible job opportunities in Europe. If you were okay with me doing that, of course."

"Exactly! And I could try expanding into opera!" She was almost bouncing off the couch at this point. "It's settled then. I'll explore our options. There are probably books in the library but in order to make headway more quickly we should start with a CD program. I'll see if there are any cheap ones for sale online..."

She continued on at her usual mile-per-minute rate and Finn was more than happy to listen. Rachel was always showing him that there was nothing they couldn't handle, so long as they were together. He felt so lucky that they had weathered the angsty storms of their youth and gotten to this place in life. Other people and things had floated into and out of his life in the eight years (eight years!) since he'd met her, and she just kept proving why she was his rock. For whatever reason, in that moment it hit him like a ton of bricks that he would always do everything he could to make sure she was just as happy as he was.

"… '_cause it's you and me and all of the people  
With nothing to do  
Nothing to lose  
And it's you and me and all of the people  
And I don't know why  
I can't keep my eyes off of you."

* * *

_

So that didn't turn out exactly as I'd planned initially, but it seems like a good way to start off this little series of random one-shots. PLEASE review and lemme know what you think! I should have the next chapter up in the next few days.

Oh and the song lyrics are from "You and Me" by Lifehouse. Not very original but I felt like sticking a musical reference into the story.


	2. Appetite for Success

Much love to those who reviewed the first chapter! As promised, here is the second installment. It actually takes place around present-day, and NOT in NYC. But it's a necessary and entertaining chapter, I promise.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or other Glee concepts. Expounding upon them is fun, though.

* * *

Finn Hudson was hungry.

That in and of itself wasn't anything new, especially after pre-season basketball practice, but today he was extra famished for some unknown reason.

He arrived home to an empty house, with Kurt away at Dalton and his mom and Burt still at work for another few hours. Luckily, there was some kind of casserole on the cooling rack that his mom must have made that morning. It looked like it was made of vegetables, which weren't usually his first choice for after-school snacks. Out if curiosity, he picked at a corner, tasted a bite, and discovered that it was actually delicious. And his mom was always telling him that he should eat more vegetables, so she'd probably be really happy when she found out that he tried it and liked it.

Portioning around one-fourth of the casserole onto a plate, Finn retreated to the living room for some quality time with the big-screen TV - one of the many perks of having a stepdad around. He plopped onto the leather couch, sitting up against the arm so he could eat without choking (he'd had a bad experience, learning the hard way that laying down and snacking don't really go well together) and started flipping channels. He stopped on the Travel Channel and settled in for a 6-episode block of Man vs. Food. Watching the host tackle all of those impressive food challenges only made Finn hungrier, and he went back for several more helpings of the green bean and spinach (at least, he thought he recognized those vegetables) concoction. He left a little bit over, just because he'd feel douchey eating the entire thing.

Once the last Man vs. Food was over, he turned off the TV and reached for his U.S. History textbook to at least make an attempt at the next day's reading assignment.

...

"Finn? Honey?" The front door opened, waking Finn from his impromptu nap. He glanced at the clock, then down at his book. Evidently he'd read exactly 2 pages and fallen asleep for an hour.

"Hi Mom!" he called out, sitting up and smoothing out his clothes so that it looked like he was studying.

Carole hung her coat in the front closet and made her way into the living room. "You have a good day, sweetie?" she asked, smoothing her hair as she entered the living room.

"It was okay," he shrugged while his mother kissed the top of his head. He was finally starting to feel normal again after Rachel's betrayal, but he didn't want to talk to his mom about that again.

"Burt should be home soon, I'm going to start dinner." She turned and went into the kitchen.

Finn was already sorta hungry again, so dinner sounded awesome.

"Finn..."

Ugh, his mother saying his name that way was definitely NOT sweet. "Yeah, Mom?" he answered cautiously. Was she mad about his dirty plate in the sink? She'd been talking a lot lately about him taking more responsibility around the house, like doing dishes and stuff. He planned to wash it, later. Besides, he thought as he heaved himself off the couch and joined her in the kitchen, he usually just left his dishes wherever - getting it to the sink was an accomplishment!

"What happened to the casserole?" Carole stared down at the nearly empty tray.

"Uh, I was really really hungry when I got home..."

"So you ate the whole thing? That was supposed to be a side dish for tomorrow's Friday Night Dinner. Kurt is coming home for the long weekend. He asked me to make that."

"Long weekend?" Right! Monday was MLK Jr. Day! Score! Unfortunately his mother's frustration prevented any happy expression from spreading across his face. "You could've left a note saying not to eat it," he pointed out, then smiled weakly. "Aren't you at least a little glad that I ate vegetables?"

Just then the front door opened yet again. "Carole! Finn!" Burt entered the house and, as his stepson tended to do, made a beeline for the kitchen. "Hey you two," he said when he found them, pulling Carole in for a chaste kiss before he noticed Finn's defeated expression. "Something wrong buddy?"

Finn glanced at the remnants of the veggie-laden side dish.

"Ohhh," Burt chuckled, then shrugged. "So make another one."

A look of disdain engulfed Carole's entire face. "Right, because I have nothing better to do. I made it in advance for a reason! I can't believe you'd just assume-"

"Not you, dear," he cut her off. "Finn."

"You mean, like, _cook_?" the teenager asked.

"Yes, that tends to be how food gets to the table. What did you think, that it just magically appears out of nowhere?" Carole threw her arms up as though she was sprinkling fairy dust.

Finn looked at the floor. He really hadn't thought about it before.

Carole contemplated the nearly-empty casserole dish yet again, taking a deep breath. "Honey I know I'm your mother and it's my job to feed you, but at this rate it could be a full-time occupation! It is about time you learned to make something on your own besides grilled cheese."

Finn was about to protest, but he caught Burt's wary eye and thought better of it. "Okay, Mom."

He managed a smile despite being terrified.

...

His mother said that she ordinarily would use frozen vegetables in a dish like this, but because Kurt was coming home and asked her to make it she wanted to do it right. A few months earlier Finn might've been offended by his mom going out of her way for Kurt, but he understood that they had a special relationship just like he had with Burt. Plus, he honestly missed not having Kurt around. He'd transferred to Dalton so abruptly after the wedding, but they really bonded over Christmas break and Kurt was oddly receptive to his heartbroken ramblings. (At first, anyway. After a while Finn could tell he was bored and only continued listening to be polite.)

So on Friday Finn went to the grocery store after school. He had been with Rachel a few times before one cooking project or another, but he never really paid attention since she always knew exactly what she needed and where everything was. He smiled at the memory of those happier times as he walked through the produce aisle.

Asking her for help would've been so easy. Too easy. They were able to be around each other okay - a "peaceful coexistence," she had called it, whatever that meant. It felt forced and strange, and Finn couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they weren't REALLY over.

All he knew was that he wasn't ready to forgive her yet. He was also tired of defining himself by whatever girl he was with or wanted to be with or slept with out of spite. He needed to just be a dude on his own for a while. As much as that scared him and felt sort of lonely, it also felt... was that word about feeling like you have the power to do things?

He picked up a kiwi, having never seen a whole one before, marveling at its strange fuzzy skin while he tried to remember the word.

Empowering! Right.

It was empowering to have decided that he was going to do things on his own. Like shop for vegetables and cook them. Finn made it halfway down the aisle before he finally found the green beans. Luckily the spinach was nearby. He was astounded by how many different types of leafy green foods there were! Like kale. What the hell is kale? To Finn it looked the same as spinach. Not different enough to have a separate name, anyway.

After 20 minutes he'd gathered all the necessary ingredients and paid for them. He drove home and brought the few grocery bags into the house along with his school bag. His mom told him that the casserole would take a half-hour to prepare (it was supposed to be 15 minutes but she gave him more time since he's a rookie) and needed an hour to bake, but that he had to also allow for an extra half-hour or so for it to cool down. It was only 4 and dinner wasn't until 7, so he put in a solid hour of Call of Duty before starting up.

He was scared. What if he messed it up and Kurt didn't like it? What if he did something wrong and burned the house down? On lots of TV shows kids and/or men cooking always led to blackened cupcakes and smoke alarms and whatever else.

But who said he couldn't be good at this? Finn thought as he unfolded the printout of the recipe and laid all of the ingredients out on the counter. No one expected him to sing and dance in front of hundreds of people but he'd done that several times. And it really made sense that Finn be able to cook, considering how much he loved food. Also, this thing for tonight didn't have to be perfect, just edible.

Studying the recipe, he carried out each of the preparation steps as instructed (including the substitution of low-far cheddar for real cheese, since Burt needed to watch his cholesterol). He was a little scared he might hurt himself with the big knife because he could be clumsy at times. But he found it relatively easy to chop the vegetables. There was also something oddly soothing about moving through each task in the order listed. The recipe was like a game-plan that Finn needed to execute, and it was a much more straightforward process than he expected. It helped that he had seen a finished product the day before and knew how the thing was supposed to turn out.

He was just about to start layering the ingredients in the baking dish when there was a loud beeping noise that startled Finn so greatly he practically jumped back from the counter. What the hell was that? he wondered, fearful that the whole kitchen was about to blow up. He frantically dialed his mother's cell phone number but it went straight to voicemail. Crap.

After a moment of cautious hesitation he was convinced that the beep was a one-time event, so he placed the ingredients into the casserole dish and then carefully opened the oven, which had been preheating.

Of course! The oven had been preheating, but the little screen now read 375°, the temperature he'd entered before he began the preparations. So the beep must have been the signal that it was ready. Yeah! Finn silently congratulated himself for drawing that conclusion on his own.

He put the dish inside and closed the door, then set the timer on his phone for an hour later and went back to his video game. Around 45 minutes later he heard the front door open.

"Something smells good," Carole said cheerfully, poking her head into his room. He paused the game and shrugged as she walked over to where he sat on his father's old recliner. When she got there she kissed the top of his head as usual. "How much more baking time does it need?"

Finn checked his phone. "Twelve minutes."

"All right. I'll be in the kitchen making the rest of dinner so I'll take it out."

"Thanks, Mom," he replied, turning back to his game, which he played a little while longer.

But he didn't really get all that into it. Part of that had to do with curiosity as to how his casserole had turned out. Mostly, though, he felt like he owed his mom some support. She'd always done so much for him – cooking lots of his favorite foods, buying him clothes, driving him to all of his practices and games, etc. Finn had always pitched in when he was asked, mainly when someone needed to lift heavy stuff or reach a high shelf. But it was high time Finn made a real effort to help his mom out without being specifically asked.

So he climbed the stairs and joined her in the kitchen. Today's casserole was on the cooling rack just as yesterday's had been. He watched from the doorway as Carole carefully eased a bag of rice into a pot of boiling water on the stove.

That didn't look so hard, he thought. "Hey, Mom."

"Finn! I didn't expect to see you 'til dinnertime. Aren't there zombies to kill or something?" she chided, earning an eye-roll in response to her teasing. "You have any plans for the weekend?"

"Not really. Figure I'll see what Kurt has going on and try to hang with him for at least a little bit."

"That sounds nice," she commented as she sprayed a baking pan, then opened the refrigerator and took out what looked like a bowl of raw chicken parts. "Your vegetables seem to have cooked up nicely," she added, motioning to the cooling rack. "And it wasn't so hard to make, was it?"

"Nah, it was actually kinda... fun. Is that chicken?" Finn asked excitedly. Most kids complained that their parents only cooked chicken, but Finn loved chicken. He had no idea what his mom did to make it taste so good, but now he was curious.

"Yes it is," Carole confirmed, taking the parts out of the bowl and arranging them on the pan. Then she showed him how to crush garlic and mix it with other spices and some olive oil.

"Once it's all mixed, you use this brush to spread it onto the chicken pieces," she explained while demonstrating on one of the drumsticks (Finn's favorite piece, obviously). "You can do that, right?" She handed him the brush.

"Sure!" Finn applied the mixture to the rest of the chicken while his mother began chopping lettuce for a salad. He felt a little silly at his enthusiasm for something that was supposed to be a chore, but it was really a win-win. He got to make his mom happy and speed up the dinner preparations.

"What now?" he asked when he was finished.

"Now, we bake for 20 minutes at 300°." Almost as if on cue, the same loud beep from the day before resonated through the kitchen, causing both mother and son to flinch slightly, before Carole laughed. "I'm still not totally used to that. In the old house the oven was so ancient that it didn't beep at all, you just had to guess that it had reached the right temperature" she recounted while Finn placed the baking tray on the middle rack. He smiled at the mention of their old house, but it was sort of a sad smile.

When he closed the oven, Carole reached up to kiss his cheek. "I'm proud of you, Finn. For the way you're dealing with all the changes in your life." She discreetly wiped moisture from the corner of your eye before hitting him in the side with a dish towel. "Now go pretend to kill terrorists, or something. I'll make Burt set the table since you cooked."

"Thanks, Mom."

...

"_Finn _made the casserole?" Kurt eyed his step-brother in disbelief as they passed the serving plates around the dinner table, helping themselves to the wares.

"Yep," Finn said simply. He took a bite and chewed cautiously. To him it tasted the same as his mom's from the day before, which was a pretty good sign. But he anxiously awaited some positive reviews that would confirm success.

"This is pretty good, kid," Burt commented, still swallowing his last bite.

Carole reached across the table to pat Finn's hand and give it a quick squeeze as she beamed proudly. "Finn also helped me make the chicken."

"Ahh, awesome As soon as spring comes, you and me, grilling, every Sunday. How's that sound?"

That could be really fun, Finn thought. "Sounds good," he replied, grinning brightly until he met Kurt's weak smile. "Oh, uh, when you're home for the summer you'll join in too, right man?"

Kurt only scoffed. "No thanks. I've always found the ritualistic outdoor preparation of raw meat to be an utterly grotesque ordeal," he explained with a healthy dose of contempt, before his tone softened. "You two have fun with your grilling - but no red meat!"

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you can look online for a way to make chicken taste like steak without killing me," Burt joked.

The others laughed, and they moved onto talking about the boys' respective school experiences since the last time the whole family ate together. Finn watched warily out of the corner of his eye when Kurt finally took a bite of the casserole. He smiled slightly and kept eating, and Finn felt a surge of pride regarding his newfound culinary skills.

It was the happiest he'd been in weeks, he realized later on. Still, he couldn't ignore the bit of hollowness he felt from not being able to share the experience with Rachel. For all of her big words and high-minded talk about the future, she always joined wholeheartedly in his excitement over small stuff. He'd always thought it was because she loved him and seeing him happy made her happy.

But if that had really been the case, she wouldn't have done the one thing that she knew would make him super upset.

Finn had really been trying to get away from thinking about her, and what she did to him. The past few days he seemed to have gotten to the point of being able to think about her without feeling total rage, so that was something. And the hollow feeling from tonight, that had to be something too.

Since he wasn't sure what the feelings meant, so he was definitely _not_ ready to do anything about them yet. But he filed it away in the back of his mind for whenever that time came.

* * *

Sooo, there you have it: Finn Hudson learning how to cook. Originally this chapter was going to cover a longer time-period and more successful Finn-cooking experiences, but it got kind of long and it seemed like a good place to end, so be on the lookout for those further successes in a subsequent chapter.

Reviews are love. :-)


	3. Good Morning to You Too!

A/N: Hello friends! I was very excited to write this chapter and I'm so glad it's done. For this installment we skip back ahead to the future. As you'll see, it doesn't really matter where in the timeline this chapter falls, but it's definitely sometime after Chapter 1. (I happen to envision this sort of thing as occurring shortly after a Finchel engagement… which I may or may not write about, not sure yet).

At any rate, enjoy!

* * *

Rachel stepped out of the shower and ran through her schedule for the day as she dried off. She had a substitute teaching stint at an East Village day school from 9 to 3, after which she'd head up to the 92nd Street Y where she gave voice lessons. She only had a few students scheduled so it thankfully wouldn't be that long a day.

She wrapped the towel around her head and left the bathroom, walking the 2.5 steps to their bedroom, where a very naked Finn was preparing their sheets and towels for his impending trip to the laundromat around the corner.

"Nice hat." He said that whenever he saw Rachel in her towel-turban. Usually those times were only on weekend mornings, since most weekdays he was already at the gym when she was getting ready for work.

"Nice outfit," she fired back.

"Thank you!" he replied brightly as he finished tightening the drawstring top of a laundry bag. Then he closed the distance between them and pulled her in for a hug.

Ordinarily Rachel **hated **rubbing up against Finn when she had just showered and he hadn't. But that came with the caveat that she **loved** rubbing up against him in general. So she let him wrap his long arms around her and sighed into his broad chest. She had been hoping that he would join her in the shower, which is something they did relatively often when they'd first moved in together. Lately he'd been complaining that the shower was too small for two people. Rachel would have taken it personally except their shower really was ridiculously tiny.

After a moment he pulled back from their embrace just enough to kiss her lips sweetly. She felt his cock, now semi-erect, twitch against her and ran her hand down his chest and stomach so she could momentarily grasp the hardening length with one hand. Finn responded by deepening the kiss and roughly squeezing her ass with both hands.

Crap, Rachel thought. He only handled her like that when he wanted to do it, and she wasn't sure she had time. Then again, she just grabbed his dong, so what did she expect? And she could already feel herself getting wet just from being close to him. But it would be better if they waited until that night, when they had time to go slow and enjoy each other's presence.

She nipped at his lips gently, curtailing the kiss so she could speak. "I's Tuesday, you'll be home at a decent hour tonight, won't you?" she whispered against his soft lips.

"Mmm... no... basketball after work..." he replied, forcing his tongue back into her mouth and rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Rachel felt a twinge of shame in forgetting that recent change in Finn's schedule. Her high school self would've been all over it. But mostly she felt her skin buzz in response to his touches.

Well, she thought then, if this morning-sex thing is happening it has to proceed with something resembling efficiency.

With that she grasped his cock again, this time more firmly and with both hands. Finn growled in response and slid a hand down between her legs, rubbing it against her mound before slipping a finger into her slick entrance.

"Mmmm…" she moaned loudly, instinctively throwing her head back and causing the towel to fall off of her head. They both chuckled softly at the unexpected interruption as she shook out her wet hair and kicked the towel off to the side. Then she snaked her arms up around Finn's neck and pulled his face to hers for another kiss. As their tongues tangled yet again, she pushed him back towards the bed. It wasn't like they could lay down since the bed was stripped bare and covered with several laundry bags and collapsible mesh hampers, but he took the hint and sat down on its edge.

Once he was sitting, Rachel broke their kiss and scampered around the bed to his nightstand to get a condom from the top drawer. Usually she waited for Finn to decide when exactly things had progressed far enough to warrant the application of protection, but this time she was proactive and felt a rush of excitement as a result. As she tore the foil open and rolled the condom onto Finn's length, she couldn't believe that 90 seconds ago she was trying to delay this activity until that evening.

They'd never done it this way before, so she wasn't quite sure how it would work. She started by gripping Finn's shoulders and climbing onto his lap, planting a knee on either side of him. Once she was straddling him, he guided his cock to her opening and Rachel sank down, groaning lowly as his magnificent piece slid into place. She stayed still for a moment, lacing her fingers into his thick hair as his hands settled on her hips. Then, slowly, she began to move her hips back and forth, so that he slid in and out ever so slightly. His dark eyes met hers and he reached forward to capture her lips with his, before kissing down her jaw and neck and eventually leaning downward to close his mouth around her taut nipple. She gripped his hair tightly as he sucked on her flesh, increasing the pace of her movements somewhat when she felt his tongue circling the nub.

"Ohhhh…" Finn groaned, releasing her breast and sitting up straight in response to the increase in speed. He tightened his grip on her left hip, guiding her movements. Rachel, never wanting to disappoint him, altered her thrusting from a back-and-forth motion to a counterclockwise one. She also leaned back a little so she could take him deeper, moving one hand behind her and gripping his right knee to brace herself at the new angle.

"Ohh God… Rachel…" he breathed, his eyes half-closed and his head thrown back, some wordless groans following the more coherent words.

Rachel loved the way Finn looks when he's enjoying their... activities. She was no longer as self-conscious about her appearance as she used to be, but it still sometimes boggled her mind that a guy as handsome and athletic and normal as Finn Hudson had asked her to be his wife.

Mostly, though, it just **really** turned her on to know that she could reduce him to a heaving and panting mess. She felt her walls begin to throb and increased the speed of her motions on his cock. Finn now moaned in short breaths, in time with her thrusts. Their speed was such that they practically bounced on the bed, jostling the laundry bags and hampers strewn across the mattress. Not that either of them cared. It was, however, too cumbersome for Rachel to lean back and keep up the pace, so she resumed her original position and gripped the backs of Finn's shoulders as she rode him.

They continued moving in a fast, steady rhythm and finally Rachel felt her release hit her.

"Ohhh God... yessss..." she gasped, coming hard and fast as he gripped her hips.

"Mmmm..." she cooed as she came down. She leaned forward to kiss him hard on the mouth as he continued to guide her movements on his lap.

After a few more thrusts, Finn came undone underneath her, squeezing her sides and pulling her small body down onto his length as he filled the condom. Rachel watched with intent adoration as his head shot back as far as it would go and his eyes closed lazily, low groans spilling from his throat. "Uhhh..." He lovingly buried his face in the crook of her neck as her movements slowed and his climax receded.

Despite his "mailman" troubles as a youth, Finn had turned into a formidable lover and usually Rachel was able to come more than once. Lately she'd been particularly greedy and didn't feel satisfied if she only had one orgasm. But the fact that Finn enjoyed himself so thoroughly more than compensated for any lacking she felt with respect to her own experience.

Obviously the whole-impromptu morning-sex thing had been pretty awesome, and she'd be crazy to complain. But, Rachel was still ever the overachiever, and if he made her orgasm 47 times in a row she'd still be wondering why they couldn't make it to 48.

After a moment, Finn pulled his face away from her neck, running a hand through her damp hair and giving her a sweet peck on the lips. "I love you," he said, his eyes gleaming with lustful satisfaction.

"I love you too." She snuggled against him as best she could and made no effort to move, until he abruptly applied a playful slap to the outside of her right thigh.

"Now get dressed and go to work!" he shouted in jest.

Rachel laughed and climbed off of his lap, following the orders to get ready while Finn actually went into the shower. By the time he got out and got dressed Rachel was ready to leave. She kissed him goodbye and strolled out into the winter morning chill with an extra spring in her step. As she walked to the subway, she knew it was going to be a great day.


	4. A Matter of Trust

A/N: Hello party people! Sorry for the delay in updating but this chapter required a lot of mulling, deliberation, and even some research.

Special shout out to i-am-a-dork/tiltingaxis for her beta-ing assistance.

Enjoy!

* * *

[March 2014]

Finn paced nervously in his dorm room. Rachel would arrive in Providence in an hour via Amtrak. Once she hit Westerly, two stations away, she'd call him and he'd head to the train station to wait for her.

He was hoping she wouldn't be upset. It was good news, really. He couldn't help but recall the last time he told her something like this...

* * *

[May 2012]

Finn couldn't believe how perfectly things were turning out. He was a senior, the football team had won conference again, the basketball team made a respectable playoff appearance, and New Directions was headed to Nationals for the second year in a row.

Most importantly, he and Rachel were going to New York together for college. Well, not together really since she'd be going to NYU and he'd only gotten into the Institute of Culinary Education, but they'd both be living in Manhattan, which was just so cool! He didn't think he'd even get into college, but after discovering his interest in cooking Ms. Pillsbury helped him research his options and apply to different schools. He'd been rejected or wait-listed at all the better-known, larger-university culinary programs, but he really didn't care. New York was where he wanted to be, and it seemed a good place to learn to be a chef.

Then he received the letter.

One of the schools that wait-listed him was Johnson & Wales University in Providence, Rhode Island. It was regarded as one of the best four-year colleges for culinary arts, and they also offered courses in management and hospitality that would be really useful if he ever wanted to expand beyond just cooking.

But they wait-listed him. They wrote to him in March saying that he was wait-listed and would know by the end of April if he was in. It was now almost Memorial Day.

"Dear Mr. Hudson," the letter read, "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into our 2-year associates degree program in Culinary Arts. In addition, we happily report that a roster spot on our men's basketball is being reserved for you. As a Division-III school we do not offer athletic scholarships, but we extend exemplary accommodations and resources to our student-athletes."

A chance to play college basketball! That seemed almost too good to be true, even if it was only D-III. And it would be awesome to go to a "real" college for 2 years, instead of a small cooking school in a gigantic and bustling city. Finn smiled at the excitement of this new development.

Then he thought of Rachel. She'd be happy for him, right? She was always talking about how he needed to advance his career and establish his identity. Apparently she saw some Dr. Phil special about men with successful wives and was worried about his psyche. (Whatever that was.)

But she had said all of that assuming he'd be in the same city as her.

"Well, we have to break up, then," she said matter-of-factly when he told her the next day.

"No!" he'd shouted back, the volume causing her to jump from her seated position at the edge of his bed. "We don't. It's only 2 years, Rach. And it's not that far, only 3 hours from New York by train! We can totally visit each other on weekends, and there are a lot of breaks and stuff. Imagine if I was stuck here in Ohio and you were there? We can do this."

Rachel's expression softened somewhat, but she still looked sad. "I'd never tell you not to go, Finn. This is obviously an amazing opportunity for you. But you'll be a big star athlete, with a multitude of girls vying for your attention. And you can cook! I heard Puck say that your talent in that area would make you a 'chick magnet' if you were single."

"Rachel," he began from his seat next to her, taking her hands in his, "I'm going to school to learn how to cook, so it's not like I'll stick out. Even the business majors have to take Intro to Culinary Arts! And I doubt people really care that much about JWU sports." He looked into her eyes, silently pleading with her to trust him.

"No, Finn. I can't do it. I can't waste 2 years of college missing you and wondering what you're doing so far away." She stood and turned to face him. "It'll be better for you too. You don't want a long-distance relationship weighing you down."

"Rachel..." he felt his heart sink at her implication that she was some kind of burden to him. "I love you. What do I have to do for you to trust me?"

"I don't know Finn. Can I take some time to think about it? I need time to process this sudden and unexpected development." She leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. "I am, of course, very proud of you."

He shrugged, unsure of what to say before she left. The next day at school she avoided him and pouted, and he knew he had to do something to convince her that they could survive two years in different cities.

* * *

[March 2014]

His ringing cell phone woke him from his recollection of the past.

"Hello my love!" Rachel's bright voice poured into his ear. "We just pulled out of Westerly, so you should probably leave now."

"All right," he replied, trying not to sound nervous. "Can't wait to see you."

"Nor I you. But aren't you excited that this is the last time I'll be visiting you at school? I really can't wait for you to graduate and move to New York already."

Finn couldn't believe he had to resort to this. "What? Oh, uh, you're breaking up, Rach, you must be in a bad service area. I'll see you soon!"

How was he supposed to tell her that he had the opportunity to spend 2 more years in Providence? As he walked to the train station, his thoughts returned to two years earlier, and what he finally came up with back then...

* * *

[May 2012]

It had been several days since Finn first told Rachel his big news. She'd been slightly less pouty, but still hadn't commented on the future of their relationship. And everyone else noticed her downtrodden mood.

"Hey Finn, hang back a sec," Mr. Schue stopped him as the rest of the Glee club scattered after their rehearsal.

"I know, I know," Finn said. "Nationals is coming up and we can't have Rachel in a big funk or whatever."

"Well, it'd be nice if she wasn't. But I'm more concerned about this important decision about your future."

Finn blinked, waiting for his teacher to dispense some meaningful advice.

"I think it'd be good for you to go to JWU, obviously because of the educational opportunities but also to be your own person for a while. College is a very important time for emotional growth, and... let's just say that maybe Terri and I would still be married if we'd gone to college apart. Or maybe we wouldn't have gotten married at all for whatever reason."

Finn tried his best not to look confused. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to take romantic advice from someone with as odd a love-life as his glee advisor.

"Anyway, I'm not saying break up with Rachel. You two obviously care about each other. In which case you should be able to let her know that she can trust you."

He thought about it overnight and did a little... research. Then he texted Rachel to meet him in the auditorium after school the next day.

He wrangled the jazz band and paced nervously on stage until Rachel arrived.

"What is this, Finn?" she asked, looking around curiously and taking a seat in the front row.

"I need to tell you something. Well, I've tried already. I thought you may listen to me better this way." He turned to the band members, who started playing the intro to the song he'd chosen. Rachel watched as he sang.

"_Some love is just a lie of the heart  
The cold remains of what began with a passionate start  
And they may not want it to end  
But it will it's just a question of when  
I've lived long enough to have learned  
The closer you get to the fire the more you get burned  
But that won't happen to us  
Because it's always been a matter of trust_

_I know you're an emotional girl  
It took a lot for you to not lose your faith in this world  
I can't offer you proof  
But you're going to face a moment of truth  
It's hard when you're always afraid  
You just recover when another belief is betrayed  
So break my heart if you must  
It's a matter of trust_

_You can't go the distance  
With too much resistance  
I know you have doubts  
But for God's sake don't shut me out_

_This time you've got nothing to lose  
You can take it, you can leave it_

_Whatever you choose  
I won't hold back anything  
And I'll walk a way a fool or a king  
Some love is just a lie of the mind  
It's make believe until its only a matter of time  
And some might have learned to adjust  
But then it never was a matter of trust_

_I'm sure you're aware love  
We've both had our share of  
Believing too long  
When the whole situation was wrong_

_Some love is just a lie of the soul  
A constant battle for the ultimate state of control  
After you've heard lie upon lie  
There can hardly be a question of why  
Some love is just a lie of the heart  
The cold remains of what began with a passionate start  
But that can't happen to us  
Because it's always been a matter of trust…"_

Rachel's eyes were wide, and Finn couldn't tell what that meant exactly. He had hoped to avoid an embarrassingly dramatic Rachel Berry reaction.

He hopped down from the stage and approached her. "I know it won't be easy," he began, taking her hands in his, "but it doesn't have to be that hard, you know? Like, maybe it's hard for other people, but those people aren't you and me."

Rachel offered a half-smile. "You promise you'll visit as much as your schedule permits?"

"Totally! I mean I'm not sure how it'll work during basketball season, but that's only 4 months of the year, and you can come to my games, right?"

"I suppose I _could _dig up my Team Finn shirt..."

Finn chuckled. "The rest of the year, I'll be at every performance, concert, showcase, dress rehearsal-"

Rachel interrupted him with a sweet kiss... which was also very hot at the same time. (How did she DO that? he wondered.) "Okay," she said, staring into his eyes.

"Okay?" Could it really have been that easy?

She nodded thoughtfully. "We love each other, and trust each other. Sometimes I can't help but think back to all of the drama with Jesse and Santana and Puck and Quinn... but we worked through those issues and we're different people now."

He returned the nod but didn't say anything, since he was fairly certain she wasn't done talking. (Rachel Berry is never done talking, really.)

Sure enough, she gave his hands a squeeze and continued. "You've matured greatly since ascertaining your desired career path. I've really been so impressed by your decision to pursue such a creative and competitive field, and if you need to be in Providence for 2 years to do that, I support you completely." She smirked slightly. "I still say my banana bread is better than yours, but maybe you'll work on that up there."

"Hey, I'm going to be a chef, not a baker," he retorted, squeezing her side and eliciting a fantastic squeal as they strolled out of the auditorium.

* * *

[March 2014]

Recalling that earlier experience, Finn decided that maybe he didn't have all that much to worry about. Uber-dramatic, high-strung high-school Rachel was upset at first but ultimately understood. So more mature and mellower college Rachel would be super happy about this news, he assured himself as he paced in the Amtrak waiting room.

As it had turned out, they were each always insanely busy, and the time between their weekend visits and school breaks just flew by. Sure Finn wanted to graduate and start his career and be with Rachel every day. But he really _really_ liked college, and he was thrilled to have a chance to stay longer. It was very confusing and he thought he might burst from the internal conflict before he was finally able to discuss the situation with her. It wouldn't involve singing, but he felt that his planned method of persuasion would prove equally effective.

Finally Rachel's train was announced as arriving, and a moment later she strode off of the platform and into Finn's arms.

"Hey!" he yelped as she threw herself at him. All of the college visits started off that way, whether they'd been apart for one week or five.

Rachel pulled away from the vigorous embrace long enough to plant a soft kiss on Finn's lips. "I missed you."

"Missed you too," he returned as he slung her duffel bag over his shoulder, taking her hand in his and starting for the exit.

They dropped Rachel's bag off at his room, then walked across campus to one of the classroom buildings. He could have easily cooked in the floor lounge kitchen back at the dorm, but Rachel always liked the kitchen lab experience. She'd said it made her feel more connected to his college existence.

He led her to the room where he had International Cuisine lab. Each semester he buddied up to one of the upperclassman teaching assistants, so that when Rachel visited he could get the room blocked off on the schedule for his exclusive use.

"Here we are," he said, holding the door open for Rachel. All of the kitchen rooms were the same, with rows of island counter stations each containing a prep space, sink, and 4-burner stove range above a small refrigerator, oven, and some shelves. This being her fifth visit, Rachel started towards their usual spot before Finn he even turned on the lights. Unlike usual, though, he only flipped one switch. This turned on half of the lights, dimly revealing the two place settings and candlesticks he'd set up on the counter.

"Ohh, Finn..." she breathed excitedly as she made herself comfortable on one of the stools.

He smiled. The candles weren't even lit yet and she was already impressed.

"Let me get that." He leaned over to light them, a soft glow settling around the room.

"Wine?" Another perk of being friends with the TAs.

"Ooh, yes please!" Rachel perked up even more as he displayed a bottle of chianti.

"It'll have to breathe for a few minutes," he warned after expertly uncorking it, earning an exaggerated pout from his dinner guest.

Meanwhile he started removing items from the refrigerator and setting them on the counter. Because Rachel's train had gotten in on the later side he would simply be heating food he'd prepared earlier that week, whereas he usually put on a good show of making an elaborate dinner on her first night. It seemed like the wine and candles were doing the trick there, but Finn would have welcomed more involved meal preparation to distract him from the news he had to share. The school ovens are all industrial and preheat to 300° in about 30 seconds (no ear-splitting signal tone necessary!), so all he had to do was slip the baking dish onto the middle rack and set the kitchen timer for 15 minutes. Then he turned back to the island to present the appetizer.

"Okay, so for our first course, I made-"

"Finn..." Rachel interrupted him in a tone he _hated_. It was the you're-doing-something-wrong-and-you-should-know-what-it-is tone. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He thought for a moment, then laughed. Some things about Rachel would never change. Reaching under the counter, he pulled his chef's hat off of the shelf and put it on.

"That's better," Rachel said approvingly, flashing a sly smile.

Finn cleared his throat and began again. "For our first course, we have a chilled lentil soup that I made yesterday." He placed one small bowl in front of Rachel and one in front of himself, removing the plastic wrap from each one as he sat down across the counter from her.

She dipped her spoon into the bowl, scooping some soup and daintily bringing it to her lips. "Mmm..." she hummed thoughtfully as she swallowed. "It's really the perfect consistency."

"Yeah, I only used a pinch of flour. The first batch had more and it wasn't pretty." He wiped his mouth and carefully folded his napkin next to his plate when he was finished. If nothing else, cooking school had taught Finn all kinds of table manners that he didn't even know existed.

He watched Rachel eat, delicately sipping small spoonfuls of soup. She looked even more beautiful than he'd remembered, her smiling face bathed in the candlelight. Not that he'd forgotten what she looked like. Seeing her live and in-person was just SO much better than grainy web-cam video-chats on his computer screen or still photos on his bedroom wall.

She finished her soup and moved her bowl off to the side, reaching her hands across the small space to grasp his.

"I'm so glad you're here." He squeezed her (tiny) hands slightly.

She grinned even wider. "Me too."

He was a little surprised that she wasn't spouting off about their plans for his move to New York, but thanked Cheesus that he had a little more time to find the right moment to tell her about JWU's offer.

"Is the wine ready?" Rachel asked, biting her lip innocently.

"Oh! Yeah it should be." Man was he off his game.

He poured them each a glass and they talked for a few minutes about Rachel's upcoming musical. She'd be playing Roxy Hart in _Chicago_ for two consecutive weekends in late April. It was her first lead role in an NYU production. High-school Rachel would have lamented that it took nearly 4 semesters for that to happen, but college Rachel was humbled by NY almost immediately and was genuinely (nervously) excited. Finn couldn't believe how mellow and… _normal _she seemed. He definitely never wanted her to change, but she just seemed happier this way. He hoped that she noticed some added maturity in him since starting college. (She didn't have to know about the 30-second kegstand at last weekend's end-of-season basketball party.)

The soft tone of the kitchen timer sounded, signaling that the eggplant-parmigiana lasagna was finished baking. Luckily Finn had been able to convince Rachel to eat cheese and eggs. At first she required that they be organic, but lately she didn't even seem to care.

"Oooh, that looks good!" she exclaimed as he carefully removed it from the oven.

He portioned them each a serving (an actual, recommended-serving-size serving, even though he'd totally be taking a second plate) and started eating.

"Mmmm! Finn this is delicious. Seriously." Rachel's compliment escaped her lips in between chews of her first bite. Finn tried not to blush.

While eating they continued talking about their plans for the remainder of the semester.

"Have you given any thought to your job search?" Rachel asked after a pause, cautiously looking up from her last few bites of lasagna.

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. This is good news, he reminded himself, and smiled as he began to share it.

"It's funny you should mention that."

"Funny? I think it's hardly humorous that you're graduating in May and need to find gainful employment-"

"They want me to stay." He interrupted her softly.

"They what?" Rachel's posture stiffened in response, eyebrows raised.

"I had a meeting with Professor Trivino last week. JWU offered me a half-scholarship if I stay two more years. I'll graduate with a BS in culinary arts and food service management." When Rachel didn't say anything, Finn cleared his throat and continued. "I know it means that I won't be joining you in New York as soon as we'd planned, and I'm totally bummed about that, but I can definitely work or intern there over the summers and I hear they may start a program where we can spend our last semester in another city so it may not even be a full two years-"

"Finn!" she exclaimed, reaching across the counter (nearly knocking over the candlesticks) to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a sloppy, excited kiss. "That's amazing!" she squealed when they broke apart, then dove right back in with such force that his hat fell off of his head and onto the floor.

Finn felt his eyes roll back in his head. He was so relieved by Rachel's reaction... and the way she was alternating between nibbling his bottom lip and swirling her tongue around his was making him dizzy.

"Mmm... Rach..." he managed to say between her assaults on his mouth. He gently held the sides of her face away from his for a moment. "This is okay?"

"Yes! It's more than okay! I'll always be there for you, and New York will be waiting for when you're done here. The opportunity to obtain a more advanced college degree is more important than all of that."

Then she looked at him seductively. "Can we take dessert to go?"

* * *

[A few hours later]

"So who told you?" Finn leaned up onto his shoulder so he was facing the stunning brunette lying next to him in his (entirely too small) bed.

"Wha- what do you mean, Finn?" she retorted, with an obvious dose of forced innocence in her tone.

"Come on, you may be a budding young actress, but I know you too well for it to work." He slowly ghosted the fingertips of his free hand down her exposed side, knowing it would tickle her.

"Finn!" she squealed and tried to fend him off, but of course her small fists did little to that end.

"You knew about my scholarship offer before you even got off that train, and I have to know who in my family to kill."

She got in a few punches before he increased his efforts, leaning over and pinning her arms above her head with one hand while the other tickled her mercilessly. The playful struggle continued for a minute or so, when Rachel relented.

"Fine! I'll tell you, I swear!" she exclaimed amidst her squeals and little grunts of resistance. Finn ceased the tickle torture but kept her arms pinned, eyeing his girlfriend warily. "It was your mom."

"Dammit!" Finn threw himself back onto the pillows, clearly frustrated. "I can't be mad at her."

"I know, baby." This time it was Rachel sitting up on her arm, leaning over to smooth Finn's hair. "Luckily for me," she giggled.

"Yeah, if it was Kurt you'd both be getting some hellish retaliation." He reached an arm out and pulled Rachel flush against him, sighing.

"Something wrong, Chef Finn?"

"Not at all, Rach," he replied before kissing the top of her head.

He couldn't believe how perfectly everything was turning out.

* * *

A/N: My husband and I started dating in high school but went to college in different cities. It wasn't easy at the time but definitely strengthened our relationship as well as our individual identities. So I always wanted to write a future!Finchel fic involving their long-distance college relationship. Expect another chapter at some point that delves more deeply into the substance of their college experiences.

The song is Billy Joel's "A Matter of Trust", which I've always thought was very Finchel-esque.

As always, thanks for sticking with me. Your reviews make me squee. Audibly.


	5. Takin' Care of Business

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Your reward is a nice M-rated chapter.

I have no ownership interest in this stuff.

Woot.

* * *

Finn grabbed his t-shirt off the barstool and used it to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. He looked around the dimly-lit, dusty space that only vaguely resembled the inside of a restaurant.

"Whose bright idea was it to open this place in June?" he grunted as he heaved a heavy box onto the bar.

"Hey, it's the right move for business," replied Ryan, his former college roommate and the supposed brains behind this venture. Without looking up from his laptop he added, "It's not my fault that there happened to be an unprecedented heat wave during renovation and set-up."

The central air conditioning wouldn't be turned on until the next day or so after the contractors installed the final kitchen appliances. With no place to put a standalone AC unit, they'd been trying to make do with a large fan. It was now just past sunset, which Finn hoped would reduce the stifling humidity. He wanted to finish stocking the bar before he called it a day.

He slid the boxcutter down the seam of a case of wine bottles. "Not for nothing, but if I knew it meant never having to lift a finger I would've majored in Food Service Entrepreneurship too."

"Yeah, yeah. I didn't hear you complaining when we interviewed for loans and your role consisted only of smiling and nodding while I made the actual pitch." Ryan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked at Finn. "Besides, I'm the one who has to sit here in view of your stark-white torso. It looks like you did a swan dive into a carton of milk," he chided, his Boston accent highlighting the word "carton."

"Hey, at least I'm not a freakishly tall ginger with freckles all over my gangly body. Seriously Gilroy, have you _seen _a gym? Like, ever?"

Ryan just rolled his eyes and changed the subject to the details of their first wholesale produce order. Back in the day they had thrown around the idea of going into business together, and Ryan more seriously proposed it about six months ago. Aside from the finishing touches to the kitchen, they were still waiting on delivery of the dining area furniture and the dishware.

After a few more boxes unloaded and playful jabs exchanged, Ryan closed his laptop and got up from his makeshift desk at the other end of the long mahogany bar. "Don't forget, we start interviews with wait staff candidates at 10 tomorrow."

Finn nodded, collapsing a now-empty box before hoisting another one onto the bar.

"You know this doesn't have to get done tonight, right buddy? Go home, relax a bit."

"I'd rather get this out of the way. If I go home now I'll just start second-guessing the menu for the 47th time." He turned to his friend. "Does that make it 48th-guessing?"

Ryan laughed and patted Finn on the shoulder. "Dude, the menu is awesome. I'm nervous too, but we're on schedule to open in 10 days and it's going to be great. Trust me."

Finn sighed at his business partner's comforting words. "You're right."

"Atta boy Hudson. Don't stay too much longer, okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanna finish this one box."

"Sounds good in the hood." They bumped fists and Ryan left, leaving the door propped slightly ajar so there was at least the outside chance of some cool air circulating into the place.

What I wouldn't give to have Gilroy's confidence, Finn thought as he continued unloading wine bottles. He'd come a long way since his uber-insecure high-school days but still doubted himself when faced with new and challenging tasks. Rachel had tried to explain that opening a restaurant wasn't _really_ new, since he was simply using existing skills in a slightly different way. Finn didn't quite understand the distinction at the time, and he wasn't able to think about it any more clearly in the stuffy twilight heat.

Why was it still so freaking hot? he thought as he unloaded the last two bottles and felt beads of sweat sliding down his back.

"Hello? Guys?" the front door opened and Rachel's voice carried though the space over the hum of the (seemingly useless) fan.

"Just me, Rach!" Finn called out, collapsing the last box as she approached the end of the bar.

"Good lord it's hot in here! I thought the subway station was bad!" When she reached him Finn saw that Rachel was also sweating profusely. Her bangs were a little stringy and sticking to her forehead, and the rest of her hair was pulled into a messy bun that sat above the nape of her neck, skewed slightly to one side. Her shoulders and neck appeared visibly moist amidst the spaghetti straps of her pink tank top, and a few tiny beads of sweat sat on each of her cheeks.

He thought she looked absolutely beautiful, of course.

"You're telling me. I've been here all afternoon." He leaned down to kiss her, a few drops of sweat dripping off of his face and onto her. "Oh, crap, sorry about that." He apologized instinctively, given his wife's dislike for dirt and grime and other unladylike stuff.

"Oh please, like it matters. I'm more sweaty than I care to acknowledge at the moment." Then she took a small step backwards and eyed him up and down, a curious look appearing on her face.

Finn knew that look.

"I must say, you are quite a sight in your present condition, Chef Finn." She bit her lip almost shyly as she studied him.

Finn looked down at his (admittedly pale) half-naked body and blushed slightly at the compliment. He kept a regular gym schedule to offset the fact that his job revolves around food, and even a full 6 years after playing college basketball he was just slightly over his playing-weight.

"I am, huh?" He circled his arms around her waist and drew her closer, then furrowed his brow. "I always thought you preferred me in my kitchen uniform?" he teased. She often used words like "dashing" and "delicious" when she saw him in his chef's coat and hat.

Rachel hooked her thumbs into the belt-loops of his cargo shorts for balance and stood on her tiptoes so they could kiss again. Her tongue slid between his parted lips, enthusiastically exploring his mouth. Content to let his question go unanswered, Finn moved his hands from her waist to her butt, pulling her flush against him. Her shirt, already a little moist from her own perspiration, soaked through completely when it came into contact with his sweaty stomach.

Adjusting to this new position, Rachel snaked her hands up around his neck, her fingers sliding into his sweat-slicked hair while she deepened their kiss even further. Finn squeezed her ass roughly and she moaned into his mouth.

Suddenly the room felt even hotter than before.

Finn loved it when they were spontaneous, but he had to think strategically for a second. The front door was still slightly ajar, and he wasn't sure how potential customers would feel if they passed by and saw or heard the new restaurant's part-owner/chef getting it on with his wife. Besides, the bar was too high up to be useful and there weren't any other surfaces in the dining area at all. Due to their size difference Finn was usually able to hold Rachel up against a wall during sex, but they were both so sweaty he was afraid they'd slip around too much and he'd drop her.

There was always the kitchen, which had plenty of available surfaces in the form of boxed appliances. But it was probably roasting in there since the windows had been closed for several hours.

Amidst Finn's contemplation of their predicament, Rachel's moans had turned to growls and her fingers were now pulling at his wet hair.

"Mmm... Finn..." she pulled away to speak and kissed down his jaw to a spot on the side of his neck that always sent a tingling sensation through his entire body... particularly the downstairs parts.

Screw it, he thought to himself, lifting Rachel off the ground and whisking her through the door to the kitchen. She squealed with delight and continued her assault on his neck, and he felt his shorts becoming even more uncomfortably tight.

He looked around the room, which was dimly illuminated by a light outside in the alley peeking in through the back window, and set Rachel down atop a box of suitable height. When she let go of his hair he used the opportunity to lift her sticky shirt up and over her head. Once it was gone she busied herself unfastening the fly of his shorts, which fell to the floor with ease.

His boxers were another story, having become so sweat-soaked from his afternoon of manual labor that they stuck to him completely. On the one hand it meant that his straining hardness was fully obvious to Rachel, which was good. But Finn was afraid that she'd be totally grossed out if she felt how wet they were.

Luckily, he knew just how to distract his wife.

Her hands were resting on his hips, but before she could reach for the elastic of his drenched underwear he leaned forward and gently kissed her temple, then the side of her face below it, then the spot below that, gradually applying more pressure until he reached her earlobe. He swirled his tongue around it once before sucking at it - hard. Rachel immediately sighed and dug her fingers into his skin. The sound was music to his ears and caused his length to strain even harder against the moist fabric.

Meanwhile, he slid a hand up her midsection and teased one of her nipples, using her perspiration to his advantage as he slowly glided his finger around the hardening nub.

"Ooooh..." Rachel groaned, arching up into his grasp.

That'll work too, he thought, kneading her entire breast with one hand while he continued nibbling at her ear and used the other hand to wriggle out of his sweaty boxers and kick them aside. (He thanked Cheesus that he could get away with going commando for the 2-block trek home, and avoid putting them back on.)

Rachel opened her eyes when his erection sprang free and pressed against her thigh, giggling as she took it in her hands.

"Mmm, Rach..." Finn felt dizzy at the sudden direct contact and steadied himself with a hand on her shoulder. He closed his eyes and felt her delicate fingers deftly grasp his stiffened cock, her hand sliding up and down the shaft.

Regaining composure, he returned his lips to her earlobe and slid his hands along her smooth thighs and up her denim skirt. Once his fingers found the top of the lacy fabric he slipped them under the elastic and dragged them downward. Rachel put one hand behind her for balance and raised her hips so he could remove them completely, her other hand still firmly holding his cock. Determined to maintain the upper hand (literally!), Finn leaned down to capture a nipple in his mouth and simultaneously pressed his thumb to her clit.

"Uhh… Finn…" Rachel moaned, releasing his length and steadying herself by holding onto his hips yet again.

He slipped a finger into her slick center, his thumb moving in a slow circle around her clit. She grunted something unintelligible and thrust her hips forward, pulling his waist closer to her. She very subtly ran the tip of her tongue across her top lip as her head fell back. In the faint light of the half-finished kitchen he could see that she was just as sweaty as before, with spots of moisture resting on her cheeks and a few drops sliding down the valley between her breasts.

It was probably the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He knew it was sort of girly and lame but he stared at her for as long as possible, drinking in the sight and trying to commit the image to memory.

At some point (he had literally no idea how much time passed but it was likely only a minute or so) Rachel opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Please…" she said quietly, biting her lip once more.

Finn felt his rigid dick twitch in agreement with Rachel's request that they move things along, and he helped her slide out of her skirt. Hitching her legs around his waist he entered her slowly, using one hand to guide his length while the other gripped her shoulder. Her warmth surrounded him and he felt every inch of his body tingle, their eyes fixated on one another's face.

"Ohhh, baby you feel _sooo _good…" he couldn't help but say once he was fully buried inside of her.

"Mmmph…." she sighed in agreement, reaching up and wrapping her hands around his neck.

He gripped her shoulder a little more tightly and moved his now free hand to her hip. Slowly they began to move, Rachel pushing her hips toward him and then back, slowly, so that his cock slid about halfway out each time. Finn met her thrusts eagerly, trying his best to maintain a steady rhythm while he leaned forward to kiss her passionately, sweat dripping down from his neck onto her chest.

After a moment they broke apart, gasping for air as their pace accelerated. Rachel released her grip on his neck and moved her arms behind her, leaning on them for support. Finn held onto each of her hips as he continued his almost frantic movements.

"Ohhh God…" she gasped loudly as her walls fluttered around his length, the subtle twitching building to a vigorous throb accompanied by wordless moans.

Finn wished he could hold back and give Rachel more (he considered himself lucky that she _always _wanted more) but that wasn't happening. He didn't know what it was about the situation that he found so exciting – the thrill of being somewhere different, the way the outside light was falling on Rachel's naked body, the sweat – but he didn't stop to try to figure it out. After only a few more thrusts his eyes rolled back and he grunted, his release washing over him as he emptied into her.

"Uhhh… Rach…" he managed to say as he came down, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"Mmmm…" she purred in response, a hand skating along his slick back.

Finn pulled away and quickly kissed her lips. "That was awesome."

"It was," Rachel agreed. Then she paused and wrinkled her nose. "You really need a shower."

Finn laughed, then raised an eyebrow. "You mean… _we _need a shower?"

Yeah, he could totally go again in 10 minutes when they got home.

* * *

A/N: I hope that was satisfactory. Not really sure where that idea came from! Look for the next chapter in a few days, which will likely be more college!Finchel.

Your reviews make me squee.


	6. In A Little While

A/N: Hello again! This chapter took me so long to really figure out and I thought about giving up so many times, but the idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Special thanks to **wants2beawriter** for being an amazing sounding-board for all of these ideas. (If you haven't done so already you should totally read our collaboration, _Take a Bit of My Heart Tonight_, found under her name.)

Please be forewarned that for plot purposes I took a lot of creative liberties regarding some details of Finn and Rachel's respective colleges. I hope it doesn't offend anyone too terribly.

Finally, I don't own any of this, etc. and so on. Song lyrics are from Unkle Kracker's "In a Little While."

* * *

_Here's to the good life or so they say  
All those parties and games that all those people play  
They tell me this is the place to be  
All these beautiful people and nothin' to see_

_Sometimes I feel like something is gone here  
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here  
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town  
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around_

_In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you  
In a little while I'll still be here without you  
You never gave me a reason to doubt you  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby...i'll be thinkin' about you baby_

No. No no no.

Rachel is happy for Finn, she really is. But his JWU acceptance completely destroys their plan! After graduation they were going to have the summer to enjoy together in Lima and then start _the rest of their lives _in New York.

She doesn't think she can be his girlfriend if he's 200 miles away. He's correct that it's closer than Ohio, where he always assumed he'd be stuck, but it doesn't change all that much. They can see each other more often, but they'll still be establishing separate existences and having completely different college experiences.

But then he sings to her about trust and there's just something in his eyes and his voice that makes her feel all right about things. She also thinks that it'd be beneficial to him to branch out on his own for 2 years.

It's only 2 years, she reminds herself whenever she needs to.

* * *

They graduate from McKinley.

Rachel had always been excited to leave Lima. After roughly a month of high school she'd determined that going away to college wouldn't even involve leaving anything behind, aside from her dads and the two or three teachers who encouraged her hopes and dreams instead of brushing her aside as a difficult and argumentative student.

But when Principal Figgins congratulates the class of 2012 and they toss their mortarboards ("The funny square graduation hats," she'd explained to Finn and Puck) into the air, she feels herself choke up. She _will _be leaving a heck of a lot behind when she goes to New York. And notwithstanding her constant proclamations about going off and becoming a star, she really doesn't like change.

Tina is the first person she encounters in the ensuing celebration and when they hug, Rachel's sobbing starts like the breaking of a dam. Mercedes and Artie join them and they also try to comfort her. Finn finds them and his lip quivers a little at the sight of Rachel's emotional state. While he hugs her tightly she summons the strength to calm down, reminding herself that this is a happy day that exists separately from whatever challenges the future may hold. Pulling away, she dabs her eyes daintily.

"You all right?" Finn leans down to ask quietly.

"Yeah, just a little overwhelmed I guess," she shrugs, not looking up at him for fear that the floodgates would open again.

"Bound to happen sometime," he jokes, gently squeezing her side and kissing the top of her head.

She laughs, already feeling a lot better. They take the requisite slew of pictures with her dads, Finn's family, and the rest of the glee club. She hopes her tears won't be noticeable in any of the prints.

In mid-July he gets her dorm assignment and roommate's contact information. She'll be living in Weinstein Residence Hall on University Place with Jessica Ramos, from Schaumburg, Illinois. Rachel is hopeful that living with a fellow Midwesterner will provide something of a comfort in her new environment.

The two girls speak by phone briefly.

"Oh, so you're a first-year..." Jess, as she likes to be called, says coolly. "I'll be a sophomore."

Rachel immediately feels her heart sink. Having a sophomore roommate isn't the worst fate in the world, but she's disappointed that she won't be living with someone going through the same new college experiences.

They keep talking and Jess seems nice enough, if not a little edgy and tough. At any rate she cordially answers Rachel's generic questions about New York and NYU and being in college. They decide to speak again towards the end of the summer to confer about who's bringing what for their room.

* * *

She's leaving for New York on August 25th.

The week leading up to her departure is a whirlwind of packing, seeing friends, and spending time with her dads – who really are acting like she's joining the army or moving to Mars for the duration of eternity. After she pouts a little and explains that neither of them will be able to sleep anyway, they allow Finn to spend the night as long as he and Rachel stay in the basement instead of her room. Rachel never expected her fathers to condone bed-sharing, but the distinction seems moot considering what that basement couch had seen during Finn's visits over the last year or so… not that her dads know the extent of it, of course.

They take advantage of the privacy once she's convinced her dads are asleep, but spend most of the night just cuddling and talking. It's awkward, being so excited and yet so sad at the same time. It's an apprehensive sort of sadness, though, since ultimately it will be a positive experience as they each embark upon their college careers.

"You're coming to visit for Columbus Day weekend, right?" he asks as he lazily strokes a hand along the inside of her arm.

"Mmm-hmm." She doesn't point out that it's the 47th time (give or take) in the last 2 days that he's asked the same question.

Much too quickly, the sun starts to come up and they stand on the front porch, his long arms wrapped tightly around her. They stay like that for several minutes until Rachel's Daddy pokes his head out to tell her that they need to leave soon.

She stands on her tiptoes and looks into Finn's eyes for as long as she can. Then they kiss passionately and his mouth strays to plant kisses everywhere on her entire face. He pulls away and his eyes are welling up a little so she reaches up to wipe them and he kisses her hand as well.

"Call me when you get there?" He asks as he descends the porch steps, their fingers still entwined.

"Mmmm-hmmm." She nods, afraid of the sob-dam breaking again. "I love you, Finn," she manages to choke out.

"Love you too, Rach," he steps back up and administers one last split-second kiss before striding down the walkway to his car.

She and her dads drive to New York that day and unload her belongings at the dorm so they can return the rented van. They catch the evening performance of _Memphis_ and she stays with them at their hotel before heading back to Weinstein in the morning. While they're unpacking Jess arrives with her (very loud) parents and she begins moving in as well.

Rachel is always nervous about how new people will react to her dads. She's used to their family, obviously, but recognizes that it's rather unconventional (as a few particularly ignorant people in Ohio liked to remind her on occasion). Despite being slightly surprised initially, Jess and her parents don't seem particularly phased by the situation, and the two families spend the early afternoon setting up the dorm room in amicable if not chaotic fashion.

Finally her dads bid Rachel a tearful but encouraging goodbye and board a shuttle to the airport for their flight back to Ohio.

Taking a deep breath, she strolls back to the dorm to begin her new life in New York.

* * *

The first week is orientation. In addition to mandatory meetings about academic affairs and student life, the school plans sightseeing outings and social activities for new students. Rachel meets a group of girls who are seemingly the only other people interested in participating in events organized by the school. Immediately she feels closest to Nadine, a similarly outgoing and talkative fellow theater major, and Amy, a set design major who lives on the floor above Rachel.

Rachel had always looked forward to college because she assumed she'd immediately find likeminded performing arts enthusiasts with whom to bond and forge genuine friendships. Early on, though, it's a slow trickle in the friends department aside from the orientation girls. She knew other students in the Tisch School for the Arts would likely have some kind of diva attitude, but most people in her classes are much snootier than she expected.

Meanwhile, her floormates seem to view drinking themselves silly as the only means to recreation. She made the mistake of revealing that the only time she'd been drunk was the junior year house party trainwreck. While she isn't totally averse to exploring that scene in the college setting, they definitely deem her unworthy of participation given her past inexperience.

She and Jess get along, but as Rachel suspected her roommate has her own friends and extra-curriculars and doesn't provide very much in the way of support, which is fine since Rachel didn't actually expect Jess to escort her around campus and introduce her to people. It genuinely hurts, though, when Jess becomes fast friends with Jill, another freshman who lives in the room next to them. They never include Rachel in their plans, and when Jill comes into the room to talk to Jess, which occurs relatively often, they converse as though Rachel isn't even in the room. She's not sure if she's allowed to join in on the discussions, but it's not like she has much to contribute to their analysis of which reality TV star is the most entertaining or what brand of makeup is the best.

Feeling left-out in college _feels_ different than it did in high school, she notices. Instead of cheerleaders' immature insults she faces subtly aloof glances cast by princessy sorority types. She tries to explain the difference to Finn but he doesn't really get it. "School just started," he points out during one of their phone conversations. "It's too soon to worry about this stuff."

His easygoing nature has always been inspiring to her, but in general Rachel is convinced that guys' brains are wired differently. And they _totally_ have it easier because of that. To fit in with each other boys need only be capable of conversing about sports and making it past level three of Halo. Finn seemingly has nothing in common with his roommate Ben, a business major from Boston/Cape Cod (the idea of someone's parents owning more than one house boggles Rachel's mind a little bit) but they apparently spend a decent amount of time playing some obscure Playstation racing game, making everything right and well in their roommateship. Also, girls still face so much more pressure involving image – body type, clothes, hair, makeup. Rachel knew she'd face that sort of pressure in pursuing a performing arts career, but she had hoped that in her social life she could be accepted for who she was and not what she looked like.

* * *

After another week or so she realizes that maybe Finn was right about giving it more time.

Despite being outside the inner circle, she's not entirely without friends on the floor. Matt, Paul, and Al are also distinct from the main clique as far as not wanting to drink or smoke marijuana every night, and because of that they're often hanging out idly in the floor lounge. After observing some of their random and silly conversations Rachel can't help but think that they'd be the target of slushie attacks at her high school, but they somehow seem to remain in good favor with the rest of the floor anyway. The three boys serve as Rachel's bridge to the other floormates, and she eats dinner with the group some nights. It's nice to be included even if she doesn't really feel like she belongs, but she tries to quell those insecurities as best as she can. After watching the way the three boys interact with everyone else, she figures out that she has to play the game of being a little bit aloof when it comes to the rest of them.

There are other people on the floor with significant others at varying distances, she learns. At first Rachel hoped to derive kinship from these similarly-situated individuals. But it soon becomes clear that they aren't all that similar to her. Billy's girlfriend calls him constantly, so he's perpetually excusing himself from informal gatherings in the floor lounge or people's rooms. And Laura always talks about her boyfriend in London but she'd already... entertained a gentlemen caller overnight. Rachel is unsure whether her floormate and her boyfriend have an "arrangement" wherein they can fool around with others during their physical separation, or if Laura is merely cheating on him. Rachel doesn't think the distinction matters all that much and is disappointed with someone who she might otherwise have been closer to.

Her orientation friends remain her primary social outlet. Nadine emerges as the de facto leader of a group of girls, most of whom are her floormates in University Hall. Rachel appreciates Nadine's tendency to organize sightseeing excursions or even just meals in the dining hall, but she can be a little bossy and the other girls brainlessly follow her around to the point where Rachel refers to them as "the drones". Luckily, her upstairs neighbor Amy is an exception. In addition to thinking for herself on occasion, Amy shares Rachel's love of Broadway musicals and classic films. She also shares Rachel's apprehensions about being left out of "real" college social experiences simply because she hasn't had much exposure to alcohol.

It's still early, but Rachel feels optimistic about the development of true friendship.

* * *

During the third week at school, Rachel feels her first pangs of genuine overarching homesickness. She's doing some reading on a Thursday night, the floor quiet since nearly everyone else is out at frat parties or "underage" bars in the West Village. Amy's at some social gathering with her floormates, and Rachel isn't particularly interested in seeing Nadine and her followers that night.

Rachel likes the other girls, she really does. They enjoy exploring the city and watching movies, two of Rachel's favorite pastimes. But thus far, it seems that's _all_ they're interested in doing. It had become a little predictable and vanilla even for Rachel's taste. The spoiled "popular" types from her floor thought she was naïve and unsophisticated; if they met such people they'd roll their eyes and deny the girls a second thought.

Rachel feels somewhat guilty for growing restless with her friends... but only somewhat. In high school she was regarded as a freakish outcast, and she fully intends to take advantage of the clean slate provided by college. She still doesn't know precisely what that entails, and she isn't going to just ditch them. But she certainly doesn't expect to broaden her horizons by spending her Friday nights doing laundry and watching old Sandra Bullock movies. The girls are good company for certain activities, but she knows she needs to expand her horizons if she's going to truly experience college.

That weekend, she gives "going out" a try.

After spending Saturday afternoon and early evening at the Museum of Natural History, she's in her room unsure of what the rest of the night will hold. When people from the floor sweep through the hallway getting ready to go to a party somewhere, no one explicitly invites her, but she sees an opportunity and they don't object when she lets on that she wants to join them. It's hard not to feel insecure since they all seemed so comfortable with each other and with the activity at hand, but she tries to shake the nagging feeling that she'd merely be tagging along. She puts on her confident smile (and a positively slutty tank top of Laura's) and sets out on the adventure.

It's a complete disaster. By the time they get to the destination "frat house" (a.k.a. a floor of a residence hall where fraternity members live) there's no more alcohol, and the "underage" bars in the vicinity all have lines wrapped around the block.

Someone decides that they'd have better luck at other random parties in the area if they break up into smaller groups. Jess takes the lead and hand-picks a small group that doesn't include Rachel, who of course winds up in the subset that apparently doesn't have a coherent plan.

She feels so helpless, unable to provide leadership in a situation that clearly requires it. But mostly she's just frustrated that she put aside her insecurities and ventured out, only to be confronted with failure.

Also, what's the point of going out with people if the whole group can't remain intact? she ponders internally. It seems stupidly exclusive. Being popular and falling in with a certain type of crowd used to seem so important, but standing on the corner of MacDougal and West 3rd Streets while her floormates frantically text around for details about any other parties, Rachel can't remember why.

She reminds herself that being different is what will make her famous one day.

* * *

{ Thinking of visiting you this weekend. How does that sound? }

Rachel's heart leaps at the sight of the text message from Finn that Tuesday night.

{ Sounds great! :-D } she writes back, her mind already going into planning mode for the weekend.

{ Should I stay with you or Kurt? :-P }

Rachel laughs at the joke but winces slightly at the mention of Kurt. She'd seen him only once since they came to NY, for a very quick lunch during which he gushed about how exciting he found the city and how lucky he feels to be studying at the Parsons School of Design.

On Friday afternoon she rushes to the midtown street corner where the bus is supposed to stop. After a few minutes of fidgeting it arrives and she perks up anxiously as people start disembarking. Finn descends the steps wearing a typical polo-shirt-and-hoodie outfit, with his backpack slung over one shoulder. His headphones are still around his neck and his hair is messier than usual, probably from a bus-ride nap (or the fact that he evidently hasn't cut it in the month he's been at school). Rachel giggles to herself when he has to duck to avoid hitting his head on the top of the doorway. He anxiously looks around at the crowd of people, a giant grin spreading across his face as he spots her and starts walking in that direction.

The scene is just so _Finn _and she can't stop the giggle from erupting into earnest laughter as he pulls her off her feet and into a crushing hug.

"I missed you," he whispers in her ear.

"I missed you more," she chokes out, somewhat surprised by the lump forming in the back of her throat. She kisses him quickly, collecting herself and pushing away the thought that he'll be gone in a mere 48 hours, resolved to make the most of his visit.

Her floormates are very friendly and cordial to Finn when they arrive at the dorm. A few of the girls blatantly look him up and down and flash flirtatious grins – obvious enough that even Finn himself notices. He reciprocates the pleasantries but not the glances, wrapping his arm around Rachel and squeezing her tightly to his side.

Jess graciously volunteers to sleep elsewhere on Friday night, and for once Rachel is glad that her roommate is a sophomore who understands these things. Some of her other girl friends are so prude and clueless they wouldn't willingly consent to "sexile."

Being intimate with Finn is wonderful, but there's a certain sadness that hangs in the air reminding her that in two days he'll be gone and she'll be alone again. She tries her best to ignore it and focuses on how he feels next to her, on top of her, _inside_ her. As he moves she stares into his eyes, fighting to keep her own from welling up as she realizes how complete and perfect she feels when she's with him like this.

The feelings build inside her until the inevitable release that washes over her and prevents her from thinking of anything at all.

"I love you," he gasps as his fingertips dig into her skin and his own release takes hold.

She lets the tears fall.

They see Kurt on Saturday for some sightseeing. Rachel sits on a park bench with him while Finn waits on line for _another _afternoon snack.

"Sorry I haven't been around much," he apologizes earnestly. "Everything okay with you at school?"

Rachel sighs, and explains to Kurt that college isn't what she expected so far.

"It's certainly not easy," he agrees. Rachel knows he can relate to her situation a little better than Finn, which in itself is comforting. "But really, if you just be yourself and go about pursuing your dreams of stardom, everything will fall into place."

She smiles at his encouraging words, and then laughs as Finn rejoins them, grinning and chomping on his sausage-and-peppers sandwich from the food truck. It's so refreshing, simply being around people who know who she truly is and share the same roots. If only temporarily, it makes her forget all about her college-related social insecurities.

The next day (after enjoying the privacy of her room following Jess's departure for work), they venture out to meet some of the girls for brunch and another sightseeing adventure. Amy texts Rachel later on, saying that that Finn is awesome and she approves. Rachel laughs because she knows that Finn is her soulmate and meanwhile she's known Amy for less than a month, but she appreciates the gesture from her new friend.

Before long she's dropping him off at the bus back to Providence. She's so incredibly happy that he was able to visit and participate in her New York life, yet there's a twinge in her stomach at the thought that, yes, the weekend did go by that fast.

The feeling of emptiness is almost tangible when she returns to her dorm room. But she reminds herself that this present arrangement is only temporary and ultimately they'll be together every single day.

That thought makes her smile.

* * *

Rachel takes Kurt's advice and tries to focus on her career-related pursuits. Theater majors don't take any actual performance classes until second semester, but at Amy's suggestion she joins the set crew of a fall semester production, since it'll fill that void in her life and afford insight into how the shows are put on. The show won't run until the weekend before Thanksgiving so the rehearsals and real production work won't begin for another few weeks, but she's glad it's on the horizon.

She and Amy leave the student center after the sign-up meeting, walking down West 3rd Street toward Mamoun's Falafel.

"Oh my God!" Rachel exclaims, stopping in her tracks and clutching her friend's shoulder. "Is that Chris Seiber?" she asks of a tall man nonchalantly walking on the other side of the street.

"Oh man!" Amy whispers excitedly as the two girls attempt to discreetly observe his progress down the street. "I saw him in _La Cage Aux Folles _when I came to visit NYU last year. Totally amazing."

"That's awesome. I wanted to see it during move-in weekend but oddly enough my dads objected." They both giggle at the irony as they continue walking in that direction, maintaining a safe distance behind the actor. Eventually they reach the corner of 6th Avenue, where he hails a cab that whisks him uptown.

Rachel exhales a breath she didn't realize she was holding in. "Did we just see a real live Broadway actor on campus?" She's not sure why she hadn't anticipated seeing celebrities in the West Village... even if the one in question is a minor celebrity only recognizable to astute Broadway followers like herself and Amy.

"Uh, yeah. And we borderline stalked him," she laughs.

"It's not really stalking," Rachel insists. "He just happened to be walking down the street at the same time we were."

"So next week at this time, when we coincidentally wind up out here again, it'll be stalking?" Amy deadpans.

"Precisely," Rachel replies with a grin. She doesn't intend to hang around in a truly creepy fashion, but the idea of future brushes with the famous and talented in her own neighborhood is legitimately exciting. It reminds her of why she wanted to come to New York in the first place.

* * *

She visits Finn for Columbus Day weekend as planned, flying off the train and into his arms at warp speed on Friday afternoon.

Finn diligently pulls her rolling-suitcase behind him as they walk from the Amtrak station to the JWU campus. Rachel waits for a comment about the size of said suitcase, but he doesn't say anything. Smart boy.

Providence is a small, quaint city that she decides suits Finn's personality perfectly. He points out a few landmarks along the way, his free hand clutching hers. They reach the school's main quad in under 20 minutes.

"Aren't you jealous that my school has a quad?" he chides, gently lowering his shoulder into her side.

"Please, you can keep your picturesque preppy New England quad, I'll take my big-city campus any day." Their ensuing playful laughter is interrupted by a voice booming from behind them.

"Yo, Hud-dawg!" A gangly red-haired boy descends the front stairs of a classroom building.

"Gilroy!" Finn exclaims in response before turning to Rachel. "Rach, this is Ryan Gilroy. We have Intro to Nutrition together."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ryan," she offers politely.

"The pleasure is all mine, finally meeting the famous Rachel. Or the soon-to-be-legit-famous Rachel, as Finn likes to tell everyone. Constantly."

Rachel and Finn both blush and look at each other. She's flattered that he's talked about her to his friends, let alone divulged her career aspirations.

"Well, I see Rachel just got in so I'll leave you to it." Ryan turns to walk in the direction from which they came. "Holler at me tomorrow or Sunday if you wanna chillax it up."

Rachel has to suppress a giggle because there's something inherently funny about a freckle-faced beanpole in glasses using such colloquial slang.

The two boys bump fists as they pass one another. "Sure thing, yo," Finn replies.

Okay, now _that_ was just unexpected, she thinks regarding her boyfriend's in-kind response. (As Ryan walks past them she realizes that he's even taller than Finn! She didn't think that was possible. No wonder they became friends.)

Her resultant grin must be noticeable because Finn cautiously asks "What?" as they resume walking.

"Nothing," she says, biting back any residual laughter. "I'm just really glad to be here experiencing your college environment with you."

They arrive at his dorm a few minutes later and take the elevator to the third floor. At NYU taking the elevator to any floor lower than 5 is practically punishable by death, but this building only _has_ 5 floors.

Finn unlocks a door a few paces from the elevator bank and holds it open for her. "Home sweet home," he chuckles.

She steps into the small room, which much like her own has a desk, dresser, and bed on each side of an imaginary line extending down the center of the room towards the windows. There's a small suitcase open on the bed to the right, and a boy of medium height with light brown hair is busying about the room placing clothes and other items into it.

"Oh, hello," he says turning toward them.

"Hi, you must be Ben. I'm Rachel."

"Rachel, so nice to meet you." Ben extends his hand and they shake. Just by the way he carries himself and how he's dressed he practically _screams _old-moneyed Boston. From what Rachel read on the Internet about old-moneyed Boston, anyway. He's wearing khakis, a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to just above his wrists, and some kind of casual deck shoes.

He zips up the suitcase and sets it on the floor. "I'm off to the Cape, but I'll be back Sunday night," he says rather unceremoniously, if not pretentiously. "Enjoy your weekend."

"You too, man," Finn returns, glancing up from his task of laying Rachel's suitcase on the floor of their tiny closet.

"Great meeting you," Rachel adds flatly as Ben exits. Finn hadn't told her very much about Ben, and she'd hoped to get to know him a little bit and see how they were really getting along.

A few minutes later they head back out and walk across campus to a building that houses what Finn calls "kitchen labs." He leads her through the nearly empty hallways to a room full of identical counter-stations that each look like little mini-kitchens. He stands on one side and instructs her to sit on the stool opposite him. After some shuffling in the small shelf space underneath the counter, he produces a white chef's coat with his name on it and puts it on along with a tall white hat.

He looks really hot, she notices.

"Technically we're supposed to wear different pants when we cook," he explains, motioning down to his jeans, "but one of the TAs told me not to worry about it after-hours." Then there's some more shuffling in the small refrigerator and he produces various ingredients that he places on the counter.

"For the entree, we'll be having homemade linguini with sauteed eggplant, sundried tomatoes, and fresh spinach." Sure enough, all of those items are laid out in front of him.

"This is like my own personal cooking show," she remarks with a grin.

"That's the idea." He winks at her as he turns a dial on the stove and oils a skillet, before moving on to slicing the medium-sized eggplant and placing the pieces in the pan.

He then chops the head of spinach with a large chef's knife, and cuts the dried tomatoes into smaller slices. Those ingredients are added to the sauté as well, and Finn ducks back down to the small refrigerator for more items.

"While that's cooking I'll just make a quick endive salad with chickpeas and pine nuts."

Rachel can't help but laugh out loud. "You _do_ realize that a year ago you had no idea what any of those things were, right?"

"And you, Miss No-Meat-Or-Cheese, should consider yourself lucky for that," he retorts matter-of-factly, tossing the pine nuts and chickpeas in some balsamic vinegar.

There's a pause while he finishes preparing the salad. "Did you know that Ben was going home for the weekend?" she asks.

"He might've mentioned it," Finn replies with an earnest shrug without looking up at her.

Rachel is a little concerned about the palpable distance she detects in their relationship, since even she and Jess are more forthcoming toward one another. And who wouldn't want to be close to her charming, athletic, and talented boyfriend? She can't help but wonder if it has to do with the fact that Ben comes from money and Finn, well, doesn't. Then again, she reminds herself, boys are different.

Also she can't complain about the fact that she and Finn will have the room entirely to themselves for two nights, she thinks as she finishes her salad.

Finn stirs the pasta into the vegetables and places a portion on each of their plates. "I hope you like it," he asks nervously, fidgeting with his napkin and waiting for Rachel to start eating before he takes a bite.

She ponders momentarily that her acting skills will come in handy if at some point Finn makes a truly terrible meal and she wants to avoid disappointing him with her adverse reaction.

But, at least for now, that won't be necessary. The meal is perfect, and she tells him so.

She also tries to express her gratitude through her actions when they return to his room later. It's only been three weeks, but it might as well have been an eternity where it concerns her... intimate feelings. She feels that same bittersweet tinge from when he visited her, but it bothers her somewhat less. Tiny dorm rooms with skinny beds will never be the most romantic places for carrying on these activities, she's learning, but it's still better than the basement couch.

The next morning they stay in bed as late as Rachel will allow before she insists they get up and Finn show her more of the campus.

That evening they have dinner in the dining hall with Finn's underclassmen basketball teammates. Rachel isn't sure what to expect, given the usual portrayal of college athletes in popular culture as set against Finn's insistence that D-III basketball "isn't such a big deal". Some of the boys have what she imagines is a typical college-athlete swagger, but they're far more mature than the football players in high school. And it's refreshing to hear them talking about their athletic pursuits and academic interests in equal amounts. One of them, a sophomore named Keith, is from New York, and he and Rachel amicably discuss her experience in the city so far.

After the meal they head over to an off-campus house rented by three of the team's seniors. The entire team gradually assembles to "celebrate" the start of the season; "i.e. drink ourselves stupid one last time, before Coach cracks the whip," Keith elaborates. Finn assures Rachel that he doesn't plan on getting "stupid" and that she doesn't have to drink at all, but she insists that she wants to partake. It's probably fitting that she share her first college drinking experience with him. And at least this time her clingy-drunk archetype won't be entirely unwanted.

He pours her a cup of something called Jungle Juice that actually tastes like ordinary fruit punch. "It'll catch up with you so be careful," he warns, wrapping an arm around her and taking a swig from his can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

At first she's the only non-team-member present, but after a slow trickle of more guest arrivals the house is full of players' girlfriends, classmates, roommates, and other assorted friends. The resulting festivities seem a little more low-key than the typical college party, not that Rachel knows from experience. She's encouraged by the diversity of the crowd and enjoys circulating with Finn to meet them all. Meeting some of the JWU women's basketball players is rather intimidating – how is she really supposed to compete with girls who are all tall and athletic, very pretty, and on top of all that, intelligent?

As if sensing her insecurities Finn pulls her closer to his side. "I'm so glad you're here," he murmurs into her ear as they make their way across the room to another group of people.

He teaches her how to play beer pong – she's terrible, but thanks to his skill they manage to win two games. Someone's iPod is playing over stereo speakers; when "Don't Stop Believing" comes on a tipsy Rachel shamelessly belts out the chorus at the top of her lungs, coaxing an equally buzzed Finn to join her. Despite their inebriation they sound as perfect as ever and his teammates whoop and cheer at the impromptu performance. The smile spreads across her face, growing (somehow) even bigger when Finn beams back in her direction.

Later, she blushes amidst the knowing nods and winks that accompany high-fives and fist-bumps when she and Finn say goodbye to everyone and leave the ongoing party. They're almost back to campus when her feet start to hurt, and he carries her across the quad on his back.

The best way to describe how she feels is... fuzzy contentment. During her weeklong alcohol dependency in high school it was a detached numbness, so unlike the heartwarming freedom she feels from being with Finn in his new (temporary) home.

"So how did I do at my first college party?" she asks as they approach his dorm, burying her face in the back of his neck as she awaits an answer.

"You were great, Rach," he grunts while climbing the front steps, setting her down once they're safely inside the lobby and waiting for the elevator. "It's nice to see you let go every now and then, but still be yourself."

She leans against him sleepily and he chuckles, kissing the top of her head. When the elevator doors open he scoops her up into his arms without warning and she shrieks at the surprising motion.

Sunday afternoon they walk around the city's College Hill neighborhood and have lunch with Ryan, who she learns is from just outside Boston and plans to major in Food Service Entrepreneurship. She appreciates getting to know Finn's college friend a little bit more. After observing his brash-yet-ambitious nature, and the dynamic between the two boys, Rachel can't help but liken Ryan to someone else they know.

"He's just like Puck! But, amusing instead of offensive!" she exclaims excitedly as they walk across campus after parting ways with the other boy.

Finn laughs. "I figured you'd notice that."

That night he makes a less elaborate but equally delicious dinner of spinach ravioli in the floor-lounge kitchen. While cooking he talks more about his classes and all the different requirements and guidelines imposed by the school, along with his expectations about the start of basketball season. Rachel really had no idea that his education would be so rigorous and structured.

"How do you do it?" she asks quietly.

"Do what?" He adds sauce to the pan and stirs.

"You're in this totally new environment, with all these requirements and commitments and social pressures, and you're handling all of them so beautifully." She takes a bite of salad, this time an arugula blend with grape tomatoes. "You just seem so comfortable here and enthusiastic about the experience. I still feel very... unsettled at school."

He shrugs as he dishes out the ravioli. "It probably also doesn't hurt that Providence is a small city. I'm looking forward to living in New York with you eventually, but it's pretty intimidating from what I've seen so far."

He sets a plate down for each of them and sits next to her. "Also, I only have two years here. So it's like... everything started up really quickly, and each moment counts that much more." He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. "That makes sense, right?"

"Of course it does," she agrees, entirely impressed by the insight Finn is dispensing. "Anyway, I don't mean to detract from our lovely New-England-college weekend by drabbling on about my adjustment issues." She motions to her food. "This is really good."

"Thanks, babe." He smiles bashfully and keeps eating.

Ben returns shortly after they've finished, and the three of them spend the rest of the evening playing video games in the boys' room. Finn's roommate isn't terribly talkative, but he's less pretentious than Rachel had assumed and she decides that their relationship is amicable enough for her approval.

She's obviously sad when she boards the train the next day, especially since she knows she won't see Finn again until Thanksgiving. But she derives a sense of comfort from having witnessed for herself that he's happy at school and forging his own path. In some ways it only adds more pressure to her quest to achieve the same condition at NYU.

Little by little, though, she's starting to feel up to the challenge.

* * *

The weeks start to pass quickly as Rachel gets a little busier with schoolwork and preparations for the show.

In early November she has her first departmental advising session.

"Rachel?" Ms. Pullman, the undergraduate coordinator, holds open the door of her office. "Please come in," she says warmly. "How do you like NYU so far?"

"Oh it's amazing," Rachel begins as she sits before the advisor's desk, elaborating on the enthusiasm she feels from her variety of introductory classes and extracurricular involvement.

"That's excellent," the middle-aged woman continues before looking down at the contents of a file folder. "I see from your orientation questionnaire you want to double-major in musical theater and music education?"

"Yes. I used to believe that performing is the only vocation I was meant to pursue, but I realize that there are no guarantees and wish to be prepared with a backup plan."

"You're absolutely correct, which is why we encourage all Tisch students to double-major in another school. However, the requirements for the drama department and the Steinhardt School of Education are each very rigorous. We find that most students who attempt to pair those two areas often graduate a semester or two late, and/or drop one of those to a minor instead of a major. This is particularly problematic since a minor in education doesn't afford a degree, and thus isn't an optimally useful career mechanism."

"Oh, with all due respect ma'am, I don't anticipate the workload being a problem for me. I'm willing to put in whatever class schedule and studio time are needed. In high school I practically ran the glee club while maintaining a 4.0 and a slew of other activities."

"I'm not saying it can't be done, but you'll have to put together an application and study proposal." She gathers some forms from a drawer and placed them in a folder, which she hands to Rachel. "Look over the informational sheets. The forms will be due at the end of next semester."

Rachel is somewhat dumbfounded that she didn't already know about this process. Over the summer she scoured the NYU website and course catalog planning most of the courses she wanted to take. She's also a little put off that Ms. Pullman didn't even offer to look over her forms or assist with her application in any way.

She returns to her dorm and spreads the sheets out on her bed. Reading them doesn't leave her totally discouraged, but it does kill whatever momentum she'd felt building recently.

Jess returns from class when she's on her fourth attempt at crafting a junior year class schedule. (The first three drafts are crumpled pieces of notebook paper on the floor next to the bed.)

"Whoa," the sophomore girl comments on the state of Rachel's side of the room. "What's  
goin' on?" she asks flippantly.

Rachel recounts the events of her afternoon, sparing no detail about how jarring the revelation has been.

"Yeah, it can be tough. Unfortunately it doesn't really matter what you've done before college. Once you get there – especially a big school like NYU where no one's going to hold your hand – you almost have to start all over again, making your way." Jess says all of this very nonchalantly, dumping school books out of her backpack and replacing them with gym clothes.

Rachel isn't sure whether her roommate empathizes with her plight, or if she's just telling her to grow up. The quasi-pep-talk leaves her just as distressed as before.

She's not upset that college is hard. She just wonders why no one warned her it would be.

* * *

Being part of the set crew proves to be an excellent outlet for frustration, she thinks two days later as she hammers a few nails into a board with all the force her small body can muster.

"Whoa, rough week?" Ian, a junior and the play's lighting director, offers from over her shoulder.

"I guess," she shrugs as he helps her position the next board. To this point Ian had struck her as overly smug, and is particularly condescending to freshmen. She doesn't want to open up to him, but it's not like she has anyone else to ask about her predicament. "Do you know anything about double-majoring in Tisch and Steinhardt?" she asks after a moment.

"You could say that, considering I'm doing it," he replies flatly.

"But... doesn't the drama department not want us to do that?" she inquires meekly.

"You expect to succeed in life just rolling over every time someone says you can't do something?" he practically snickers.

Rachel is taken aback since she hadn't even realized that's what she was doing... probably since she'd never done so before when faced with adversity.

"I'm sorry," Ian continues before she can formulate a response, his sarcastic stoicism softening. "I get that things can be intimidating your first year, and you seem like the type to follow the rules pretty strictly. It may take some work to double in Steinhardt, but it's not, like, forbidden. And you've obviously been determined and successful if you're here at NYU, so you'll put the work in and do it."

"Exactly!" she exclaims in agreement with the last part, smiling. (She ignores his snide implication about sticking to the rules instead of unloading on him about Vitamin D and sending Sunshine to a crackhouse all in the pursuit of victory and self-preservation.)

"If you want, you can even have a look at my study plan, as a model for your own, " he offers as they finish Rachel's board-nailing task.

"That'd be awesome." She pauses. "Do you need help with any of the lights?"

They move on to setting up color-gel inserts for the spotlights, and while they work Ian dispenses a few more pointers on which classes to take when, and which Tisch professors are good sources of guidance for education double-majors.

Rachel walks through the crisp fall night air with a renewed sense of purpose and faith in people. She calls Finn and tells him what happened, how she resolved her brief career crisis and simultaneously found a possible friend in someone she'd previously written off as obnoxious.

"That's great, Rach. See, what'd I tell ya? These things just take a little time." She can practically _hear_ his smile through the speaker of her cellphone. As much as she wishes he was there with her to share in her successes in-person, she's grateful for his advice and support from afar.

That weekend the show goes off without a hitch, helping to restore Rachel's confidence even further. She's envious of the actors and can't wait to be one of them in the spring.

There's a cast-and-crew party on Sunday evening and she drinks champagne and stays out WAY late for a school night, walking through Washington Square Park at 2 AM in a fit of giggles with Amy over something that really isn't terribly funny.

She finally feels like college may agree with her after all.

* * *

Two afternoons later she flies back to Lima for Thanksgiving break, hugging her very emotional dads in airport baggage claim. Oddly enough she hadn't realized just how much she missed them until she was with them again. During the car ride they pepper her with questions about her roommate and friends and classes and activities, which is odd since she sent them an email every Sunday evening like clockwork... except this past Sunday because of the show and the subsequent party.

Finn calls her when his flight gets in that evening. By the time he's back in Lima it's so late her dads have gone to bed, so he texts from the porch and she greets him at the front door.

He steps into the house and immediately scoops her up into a kiss that seems to stop time and literally takes her breath away. When they finally stop for air he exacerbates the breathless effect by squeezing her to his chest, simultaneously burying his face in her hair.

Finally, he murmurs, "I don't know how I lived without you for six weeks."

Her heart flutters at his sweet lamentation and she sighs against his broad chest, breathing in his scent and willing the moment to last forever.

A few minutes later they're back on the basement couch.

A few _hours_ later they're standing at the front door again, Finn stealing as many kisses as Rachel allows before she shoos him off to his parents' house and climbs the stairs to her room.

She finds it strange to go to sleep without the hum of the big city outside her window. And her bed feels different, but she can't put her finger on how, exactly. It's still home, but it's not quite the same.

The next day they meet their former glee-mates for lunch and visit Mr. Schue at McKinley. Having been out in the "real world" Rachel sees the school with new eyes and wonders why people make so much of the social politics inherent in high school. Still, she can't shake the fear of an impending slushie attack.

There's a party at Brittany's that night and she enjoys catching up with her friends. But she mainly stays close to Finn's side.

She and her dads have Thanksgiving dinner at the home of their longtime friends from temple, after which they go over to the Hudson-Hummel house for dessert. Carole engulfs her in a warm hug as soon as she walks through the door while Burt heartily shakes hands with Hiram and Leroy.

"After he finished invading my kitchen and criticizing my turkey preparation methods, Finn made three different vegan pies," her boyfriend's mother laughs, nudging her towards the spread on the dining room table.

Rachel takes a small piece of pie and some fruit and sits next to Finn on the living room love seat, which many moons prior had been deemed "the Finchel seat." Finn inhales his larger piece of pie in roughly three seconds and puts his arm around her. Kurt makes a slightly disgusted face very briefly, until Rachel's Dad asks him about his college experience so far; he brightens and starts gushing about Parsons as usual.

Later on over the coffee pot Rachel discusses her introductory writing class with Burt's sister, a reporter for a medium-sized paper in Cleveland. When their conversation ends she notices Finn gazing at her curiously from across the room. She joins him in their spot again, kissing his cheek softly.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks in a whisper.

"The future," he replies, lacing his fingers with hers. "Cooking Thanksgiving dinner for you and our kids and everyone else." He rests his cheek atop her head. "Making French toast the next morning before we put up the Christmas tree and Hanukkah menorah." He pauses, before adding: "You know, the usual."

Her heart practically melts into a puddle as she somehow manages a giggle at his perfect deadpan.

Rachel never doubted Finn's devotion to her, but he rarely said things like that, referring to the future or getting married or having kids or anything like that. It was nice to know that she wasn't the only half of their relationship thinking of all the exciting things that lay ahead for them.

She catches her Daddy and Carole whispering to each other and glancing at them from across the room, probably picking out names for their future grandchildren.

* * *

They return to their respective schools, and the last week of the semester flies by before everyone is immersed in final exams.

Rachel is somewhat impressed that her floormates who previously showed no interest in activities other than drinking really buckle down and study. She's kept up with the reading for all of her classes so her experience is slightly less torturous, but she puts in nearly as much time going over her notes and making sure her papers are flawless.

She's excited to go home for three weeks and leaves for the airport immediately after handing in her last paper, bidding goodbye to Matt and Billy as she passes them in the hallway.

Kurt manages to get onto the same flight, and they spend their 90 minutes in the air making all sorts of plans for the impending break.

Between sleepovers with Kurt and Mercedes, movie dates (and… other things…) with Finn, and various obligatory holiday festivities with her dads, Rachel barely has time to breathe. But being at home is refreshing. When her dads go out of town for New Year's Eve and she's talked into hosting a party, she's decidedly less uptight than the last time the glee club gathered in her basement.

"I gotta say, Berry, college has certainly done ya good." Puck drapes an arm around her and surveys the scene around them. "This party is legit dope."

She smiles at him and takes a sip of the vodka-cranberry that Santana made her. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. How's the mechanic's certificate program going?"

During their ensuing conversation she catches Finn's eye from across the room where he and some others are engaging in some sort of cup-flipping game. At first Rachel fears that Finn will be jealous of the somewhat intimate contact between Noah and herself, but he only flashes his lopsided grin and winks at her. Eventually Puck gets distracted by Brittany's latest pole-dancer impersonation, and she joins Finn for the game (which he tells her is actually just called "Flip-Cup" – really, no one used _any_ brain cells in coming up with the names of these drinking activities).

They kiss in the usual New Year's Eve fashion when the clock strikes midnight.

"Happy 2013," she purs into his neck.

"You mean... _lucky _13," he whispers seductively in her ear, maintaining their embrace and walking them towards the laundry room as discreetly as he can manage.

"Finn!" she exclaims although attempting to keep her voice low. "I can't sneak out of my own party to secretly... do that!"

"You'd rather I announce it to everyone?" he asks, a raised eyebrow joining his sly grin.

When did he become so sarcastic? she thinks. But honestly, how was she ever supposed to say no to a face like that?

She takes a deep breath and composes herself, glancing around the basement. "Fine, but let's make it quick." She leads the way to the laundry room in an almost businesslike fashion, pulling him along.

* * *

Due to his basketball schedule Finn has to return to school a week earlier than Rachel, and she drives him to the airport. He doesn't say anything for most of the ride, displaying a distant, sad expression as they accelerate onto the highway towards the airport.

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it. He turns to her and smiles meekly.

"I'll miss you," he offers.

"I'll miss you too, Finn. But I'll be visiting in just a few weeks for the long Presidents' Day weekend." She finds it funny that he was the one to adjust to school so quickly, but meanwhile whenever they have to say goodbye he's always way more sappy and emotional than she is. At least this time he has to run into the terminal to make his flight, so they can't linger as long as he usually does.

After they part she returns home, driving through the streets of Lima and thinking about how different things feel after only one semester of college. Rachel can't even put her finger on what happened, exactly, over the course of the few months. It may not have started off so grand, but recent developments leave her excited to return to New York for the next chapter in her journey.

Moreover, she's very proud of herself and Finn for making the long-distance relationship work. The promise of a future with him is definitely enough to get her through their remaining year-and-a-half apart, regardless of the personal obstacles she may face.

_On the other side of a coin, there's a face  
There's a memory somewhere that I can't erase  
And there's a place that I'll find someday  
But sometimes I feel like it's slippin' away_

_Sometimes I feel like something is gone here  
Something is wrong here, I don't belong here  
Sometimes I feel like a stranger in town  
And I've lost what I found, it'll all turn around  
_

_In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you  
In a little while I'll still be here without you  
You never gave me a reason to doubt you  
In a little while I'll be thinkin' about you baby_

* * *

A/N #2: Phew! That was an insanely long chapter and I thank you for sticking with me to the end. Like I said, I took a lot of creative license as far as the academic requirements of each of their schools. And I literally just made up Finn's pasta and salad recipes off the top of my head; I have no idea how they'd actually taste.

Please let me know what you think!


	7. Bravissima

A/N: I had an insatiable craving to write about Finchel babies. As usual I tried to be as factually accurate and realistic as possible, but took a fair bit of creative license just the same. Hope you like it – your reviews make me squee. (I just enabled anonymous reviews for my stories so feel free to have at me even if you're lurking without an account. ) Oh, and this chapter is rated T, but don't worry, I have a nice M-rated installment waiting on deck.

* * *

"Uncle Ry!" Eight-year-old Billy and six-year-old Celine burst through the doors of the Italian/American bistro in Brooklyn's Park Slope neighborhood, making a beeline for the bar and their father's business partner.

"Hey you two," Ryan remarked as the children situated themselves, each hanging a small knapsack on the back of a stool and climbing up onto the seat. "How was school today?"

"The best! We had recess outside and I played on the monkey bars with Kevin and it's Friday so we don't have any homework!" The little boy was so excited he could barely contain himself, and Ryan chuckled at the display of youthful enthusiasm.

"And what about you Celine? How's first grade these days?" he asked while drying a wine glass.

"It's okay." Her reply was quiet and sullen as she looked off into a corner of the bar. Ryan took note of the expression and reminded himself to tell Finn about it later. For now, though, he knew what his job was.

"Okay guys," he placed the last of the dried glasses in the rack above the bar and turned back to them, "what'll it be today?"

"Mozzarella sticks! And chicken fingers!" Celine exclaimed, her eyes lighting up.

"We had both of those yesterday," her brother protested. "I want a panini and french onion soup and calamari-"

"What does this look like, a restaurant?" a voiced behind them boomed playfully in mock dismay.

"Hey Dad!" Billy leaned off of his stool and hugged Finn, who had emerged from the kitchen and snuck up behind them. As soon as he'd heard the high-pitched squeals of his offspring he quickly finished preparing a sauce that was now simmering on the stove tended to by sous chef Marie.

"It _is_, a restaurant, Daddy," Celine said pointedly as Finn kissed the top of her head and affectionately mussed Billy's hair.

"My baby girl turns six and all the sudden she's too cool for jokes from her dear ol' Dad, huh?" He looked up at Ryan, who had 18-month-old twin girls at home. "Don't let yours out of the playpen, man." Glancing at the clock on the back wall, he returned to the task at hand. "All right kids, what'll it be? Remember we only have an hour to eat dinner before we need to start getting ready for Mommy's show."

The kids finalized their orders and Finn returned to the kitchen to prepare their food. He also made a small plate for himself, to hold him over until the late dinner that he and Rachel would eat together after they returned from the theater and put the kids to bed. While those items were cooking he prepared a few other aspects of the night's special dishes, and made sure that Marie and the three line cooks were equipped to handle the evening's patrons in his absence.

"Make sure not to overcook the veal! It's sliced thinner than I usually like it for the scaloppini."

"We'll be fine, boss," Marie insisted, as forcefully as was possible in her delicate French accent. "Go eat with the children and enjoy your wife's show!" She smacked his side with a dishtowel.

"I'm going, I'm going!" Finn retorted as he left the kitchen. He and Ryan were lucky to find Marie. Their first few sous chefs were ambitious and talented but couldn't really manage a kitchen on their own. In the five years since the gray-haired European had joined their staff, though, Finn needed to spend far less time preparing dishes and instructing the line cooks. That allowed him to devote more energy to the management side of things, which freed up more time for he and Ryan to spend with their families. So his warnings about meat notwithstanding, Finn felt comfortable taking the children to the theater even though it would be a busy night.

He stood behind the bar with Ryan while the kids ate and talked about their day at school. It was a beautiful springtime afternoon, and a few neighbors and regular patrons stopped in to say hello amidst their errands and walks home from the subway. Ever concerned with drumming up business, Ryan made them all promise to come back for a meal sometime soon.

"I'm done eating Dad!" Billy proudly displayed his empty plate. "Can I go upstairs now?"

"I'm done too!" Celine insisted despite the few pieces of chicken finger still on her plate. She followed her brother's lead and slipped off her stool, and they diligently brought their dirty plates to the kitchen. Meanwhile Finn brandished his spare housekey.

"I'll be up in a few minutes and one of you better be in the shower by then. No goofing around!" He handed Billy the key and shouted after them when they ran off.

When he turned back to Ryan, the red-haired man was laughing quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing, _Dad_," he scoffed.

"Ohhh, you just wait and see, friend. One day you'll wake up and your babies won't be babies anymore, they'll be going to school, asking for a new toy every day, leaving those toys _all_around the house-"

Ryan put his hand up in Finn's face. "Maybe so, but until then I'm remaining in denial and making fun of you."

"Fair enough," Finn conceded and shrugged. The conversation then turned to a few details of the night's menu and the next day's wait staff schedule. Finn returned his own plate to the kitchen and was about to leave for the night when Ryan stopped him again.

"Hey I almost forgot to mention," he began, "Celine seemed a little bummed about something today. Not sure if you noticed anything."

"Yeah, I think I know what's up. Thanks for pointing it out, though." Finn held out a fist and Ryan bumped it with his own as they said their goodbyes.

Finn walked out the front entrance of the bistro and turned right, unlocking the door to the rest of the building, which he and Rachel purchased a few years after they opened the restaurant. The top two floors comprised a duplex that they felt was perfect for housing a family, and the floor immediately above the restaurant was another apartment that they rented out. The purchase had been risky, considering that the restaurant was just starting to turn a profit. But between the rental income, their savings, Rachel's earnings, and their frugal lifestyle, they made it work.

He climbed the narrow staircase two steps at a time and entered their apartment on the third floor. Immediately he felt assaulted by the sounds of NBA2K30 emanating from the living room TV. Sure enough, Billy sat on the couch mesmerized by the game, dressed in the clothes Rachel must have laid out for him, his hair still wet from the shower.

"Nice shot, buddy!" Finn said encouragingly as he walked by. "Can you kill the volume a little bit, though?"

"Okayyy," the boy said, sparing no ounce of resignation in his tone.

Finn stepped into the master bedroom, where he shed his chef's coat and threw it into the laundry bin. Opening his side of the large closet, he picked out his own clothes for the night. He heard the upstairs shower turn off, but waited a minute or so before he ascended the internal stairs to the second floor of the apartment. Turning left, he knocked on the yellow door covered in sparkly butterfly stickers.

"Come in." Celine's voice carried softly into the hallway.

Finn opened the door slowly, and found his daughter standing in front of her open closet. In her fuzzy pink bathrobe with a towel-turban on her head she looked just like a mini Rachel. The sight made his heart swell.

"Need any help?" he offered as he approached her.

She sighed dramatically as she reached for a purple and black striped dress. "No thanks, Daddy."

Finn pulled out her small desk chair and sat down as she took the hanger off the rack. "Is something bothering you sweetie?"

She shrugged, opening a drawer and removing a pair of black leggings.

"Hey," Finn said, reaching for the little girl and pulling her onto his lap. "You always tell me when something's wrong. Why so quiet now?"

Celine sighed again, and finally looked up into her father's eyes. "It's about Mommy."

Finn had suspected as much. "What about her?"

"She's never here at night." The little girl pouted slightly. "I wish she could be here to eat dinner with us and tuck me in." Rachel was always reading parent magazines and she had said something to him recently about how Celine was getting to the age where she'd notice that other kids' moms were around in the evenings whereas hers wasn't.

So, Finn was somewhat prepared with a little speech. "Oh, I wish she were here more too, kiddo. Your mom's job is very special and _very _important to her. You certainly know by now that Mommy has wanted to perform on Broadway since she was your age. Probably even before that, actually."

Celine nodded, rolling her eyes a little bit to emphasize just how much she'd heard about her mother's career aspirations.

"What you might not know is that for a long time she thought that singing and acting on Broadway was the only thing that would make her happy. But, she grew up a little bit, we got married and had your brother and then you. And I've _never_ seen Mommy happier than when she's with you. Even when she's at rehearsal or performing, I'm positive that she's thinking about you and looking forward to the next time she gets to see you."

A hopeful half-smile appeared on Celine's face.

"During the show tonight, look up at Mommy and you'll see how happy she is. She won't look for you because she has to stay 'in character' the whole time. But, when it's over and she comes out for the curtain call and looks down at you and Bill, I _promise_ she'll look a _billion _times happier than that." Finn was a little nervous about making such a guarantee, but he wasn't sure what else to do.

He also wanted to remind her that there were certain perks to each of their work schedules. "Besides, isn't it nice that Mommy and I are both here in the mornings to help you get ready and walk you to school?"

Celine nodded, snuggling into his chest. The morning had never been Finn's favorite time of day, but Rachel was seemingly always full of energy and eager to spend time with their kids then.

"And we always eat dinner downstairs together on Sundays. _And_, what about Mondays, when the restaurant is closed and Mommy and I are home for you after school?" He tightened his grip on her slightly. "Don't you enjoy our special family nights?"

"Of course I do!" the little girl exclaimed. Surely she was referring to after dinner on Mondays, when she and Rachel watched TV in the master bedroom while Finn and Billy played video games in the living room.

"Also, isn't it _kinda_ cool that after ballet, or art class, or whatever else you're doing after school, you get to come to the restaurant and hang out with Uncle Ryan while I make you whatever you want for dinner?"

Celine laughed. "_Yes_, Daddy, it's _very _cool," she said almost snarkily. (Who knew a 6-year-old could be snarky?) But at least she seemed to be in a better mood.

"All right then." Their bonding pep-talk session having concluded, Finn left Celine to get dressed and went to get himself ready for their evening out.

He meant what he said, about Rachel being happiest when she's with the kids. Obviously he simplified and shortened the story a little bit, but the point was the same. After college Rachel was definitely discouraged when her only roles came in lesser-known off-Broadway productions or in the company of larger shows. Luckily she also enjoyed substitute-teaching, giving voice lessons, and directing youth music activities around the city, which she was able to do even when the kids were little. Finn worried that she'd feel like a failure for putting her performing career on hold at such a young age, but once the restaurant started to do well she insisted that it was the right time to have kids.

And Rachel was a trooper, maintaining her voice lesson and choir-direction duties up until her third trimester pregnant with Billy. As far as the nursery and other aspects of the house, she prepared for the baby's arrival almost entirely on her own while Finn worked long hours at the bistro. He'd never been happier than when their son was born, but he was nonetheless nervous about his untested parenting abilities. Rachel, on the other hand, looked so natural and calm with a baby in her arms, and took to her maternal role without hesitation. Finn knew she'd never admit it, but Rachel was decidedly over the moon two years later when they found out their second child would be a girl. She constantly told him how happy she was with their kids and their family and their _life_, but she didn't even need to say anything. Her contentment was plainly obvious to all observers. Finn was especially glad (and maybe a little relieved, even) to see Rachel happy in a job that came without notoriety or public acclaim.

Eventually though, their babies were no longer babies and Rachel was able to resume auditioning. At first it was the same-old, same-old types of roles, but last September, when Celine started school full-time, Rachel scored a few major-production auditions. She landed one of the lead roles in _Lucky Guy_, a small-scale musical about country singers. During her run, she garnered enough attention and critical approval to snag a lead role in _Wicked_, the long-running Wizard of Oz-based musical.

After Finn showered he got dressed in one of his pre-designated, Rachel-approved theater outfits. (At this point he was definitely capable of picking out a pair of khakis and matching button-down shirt, but he let his wife have her illusions about his level of self-sufficiency.) Then he helped Celine put her hair, now just slightly damp, in pigtails. After that he tore Billy away from his game, and they set off for the subway station a few blocks north of their home. It was only about a 30-minute ride on the Q train from Brooklyn's 7th Avenue to Times Square in the center of Manhattan.

"I can't wait to see Mommy as Elphaba!" Celine exclaimed as they rode the escalator up to street level. Rachel joined the cast a few weeks ago and Finn had already seen the show twice, but this would be the kids' first time.

"You're gonna to love it," he assured their daughter, taking her hand as they left the subway station and stepped out onto 42nd Street. Billy was a little harder to reign in with a hand-hold when they reached the corner and prepared to cross the street, but Finn suspected that their son's hyper demeanor had more to do with the soda he drank earlier than excitement over seeing Rachel's show for the first time. (Not that Bill didn't appreciate Rachel's talent; he just didn't usually bounce down the street because of it.)

They arrived at the theater a few minutes later, and Finn made sure they all used the restroom before finding their seats. The routine was fairly familiar, although this was the first time bringing them to an evening performance as opposed to a matinee.

The curtain went up and the show began. Finn wanted to see his wife at work, of course, but he was more excited to observe the kids' reactions. They were finally at the age where they could not only sit through entire performances, but also understand the story enough to truly enjoy it. Sure enough, Billy was entranced by the action-based scenes, especially the flying monkeys, and Celine loved all the musical numbers. Needless to say, they both stared, wide-eyed and grinning, whenever their mother was on stage.

"Daddy!" Celine whisper-yelled while tugging his sleeve during "One Short Day".

"What is it, Celly?" Finn leaned down closer to her level.

The little girl cupped her hands around his left ear and whispered, "Mommy does look really happy! Are you _sure_ she'll be happier later when she sees us?"

"Uh, yeah, kiddo. But _shh_, just watch the show for now." Finn gently tugged one of her pigtails playfully as she turned back toward the stage. He felt a little bit of panic set in at the thought that Rachel may not even see them during the curtain call. Or what if Celine remembered that he said Rachel would look a billion times happier. How can you even numerically quantify how happy someone looks? Their little girl was going to be the death of him if he kept making these ridiculous promises that he had no way of keeping.

As the first act concluded, though, he reminded himself that this was Rachel. She knew exactly where they were sitting, she would wave to them during the curtain call, and she would probably cry at the sight of their children watching her.

During the intermission Billy wanted a snack so they made an excursion to the concession stand. Finn was definitely the pushover parent when it came to little goodies like that, but luckily he was also in the food business and didn't necessarily like the idea of the kids indulging in processed garbage junk food. Still, this was a special occasion, and if his kid wanted Twizzlers, so be it. (Also Billy was sufficiently big that Finn would much rather deal with a slightly-hyper child than carry two sleeping kids home, so that was a benefit of the sugar intake as well.)

They sat through the second act, and he was pleased that the show held the attention of both children for its entirety. Then came the moment of truth. The whole cast emerged for the curtain call, with Rachel in the very center next to the actress playing Glinda. When she stepped out for her bow, to a standing ovation of course, Finn hoisted Celine into his arms so she could see over the audience members standing in front of them.

Rachel waved, first to the entire crowd. Then, she looked down to their seats in the third row and her smile widened as she waved in their direction. "Mommy loves you," she mouthed to the children before winking at Finn. They were a little too far away for him to be certain, but he thought he saw the shimmer of joyful tears in her eyes.

"I love you too Mommy!" Celine yelled as loudly as she could, waving up at Rachel and bouncing in Finn's arms. Once the curtain fell again he placed the girl back on her feet. "You were right, Daddy! She saw us! And she looked _so _happy!" She hugged his side momentarily before releasing it, and Finn breathed a sigh of relief.

Following the instructions Rachel had given him, Finn waited for the crowd to recede before he sought out a security guard named Phil, who brought them around backstage.

When she saw them approaching, Rachel gasped and displayed a shocked expression. "Who are these gigantic children? Certainly not my babies!" she joked as they approached her and engulfed her in a warm, congratulatory hug. In the meantime Finn leaned down to give Rachel a quick peck on the lips. She glowed as she introduced the kids to her castmates and members of the crew, and gave them a close-up look at some of the props.

By the time Rachel emerged from her dressing room after changing into street clothes and removing her green makeup, Celine was already asleep in Finn's arms. They stepped outside and hailed a cab home; as soon as they were situated in the backseat Billy nodded off, leaning against Rachel's shoulder.

"Long day for them, huh?" Rachel said quietly, smoothing their son's shaggy dark hair.

"I guess so," Finn whispered back.

"She mentioned it, didn't she?" Rachel asked, motioning towards Celine.

It's insane how she always just _knows _these things, Finn thought to himself as he nodded.

"But Daddy made everything okay?"

Finn chuckled as softly as he could manage. "I think it was mostly Mommy who did that, but Daddy played a pivotal role."

"Ah, well," Rachel reached up to stroke the side of Finn's face, "Mommy will have to give Daddy a special thank-you when we get home."

Finn raised his eyebrows and smiled, watching Manhattan pass by behind them as they drove over the Brooklyn Bridge.

He loved being Daddy.

* * *

A/N: So there ya have it. I couldn't resist writing Finn as a scrumptious and understanding father. Hope you find him as tasty as I do. :-P And I've never actually seen Wicked, so I hope I did it justice.


	8. Keeping Cool

A/N: This is for **joshsgrl**, who requested smut. Special thanks to **wants2beawriter**, who served as an excellent sounding board for this idea. (You should all thank her too, since she talked me out of writing my usual rambling backstory.) It's a little rough, but hopefully there aren't that many mistakes.

This is dirty, dirty smut. And I have no proprietary or other ownership interest in Glee.

* * *

Rachel awoke to a groggy-feeling head and dry mouth on Monday morning. She expected both, on account of the five vodka-tonics she had at her castmate's birthday party the night before. (Well, earlier that morning, really, if she wanted to be technical). The bigger problem was that she and Finn hadn't gone to bed until 4 AM, and yet there she was, awake at 10:30 and unsure that she could go back to sleep.

She got up to use the bathroom and forced herself to drink an entire glass of water before she settled back into bed. Finn must have sensed her movement amidst his blissful sleep, since he turned onto his side and gathered Rachel against him with his long arms.

"Mmm… I love you…" he purred drowsily and kissed the back of her head. "Now sleep…"

Rachel had always been a stickler for getting her AMA-recommended 8 hours of sleep per night, but anything beyond that always seemed like a waste of time to her.

Admittedly, on their recent mutual days off she'd stayed in bed much later that normal. But even then she usually read a book or magazine in bed until Finn woke up for their customary day-off morning sex. She wasn't desperate for the relations themselves, but given how busy they both were it felt like that was the only time they actually spent together.

Today, however, she was feeling especially antsy and didn't want to waste time sitting in bed if she wasn't going to get any more sleep. And who the hell was Finn to tell her otherwise? Lately he'd been operating only in four modes: work, fantasy football, sleep, and sex.

Rachel wriggled out of his embrace and slipped on her workout clothes, watching as he situated himself in the middle of the bed and hugged her pillow to his side. Looking at his peaceful sleeping form with a hint of disdain, she set off for the yoga studio around the corner from their apartment that had a Bikram class every Monday at 11 AM.

Settling in and spreading out her mat towards the front of the room, Rachel already felt an air of relaxation surrounding her. Rachel never thought she'd like Bikram yoga because of her abhorrence for sweat, but she grew to find the experience very cleansing. Once the class began and she moved through the poses the stress gradually lifted away.

She realized that she was only taking her frustrations out on poor Finn (albeit unbeknownst to him) because she was jealous of his ability to keep calm even in stressful situations. In reality he'd been even busier than she was and yet he was always so… cool.

She laughed to herself at the irony of a train of thought about Finn's _coolness_, since she was sitting in a 105-degree room.

After class she returned to their apartment and saw Finn sitting at his computer in the corner of the living room.

"Hey," she greeted him as she stepped out of her flip-flops, trying to hide her disappointment at not being able to crawl right back into bed with him.

Finn only smiled back weakly, and by the time she finished hanging her jacket up in the small coat closet he had crossed the room and was standing next to her with a curious expression on his face.

He looked somewhat nervous, Rachel noticed, and she momentarily began to panic. "Finn? Is something wrong?" She had really worked hard at thinking rationally most of the time, but living so far away from home meant neuroses about some emergency in Lima that they don't hear about until too late.

Finn just shook his head gently, and closed the distance between them. Placing his hands on Rachel's shoulders, he bent down and kissed her, his tongue immediately slipping past her parted lips and probing her mouth.

Needless to say, Rachel was pleasantly surprised (although the fact that he was still clad in only his boxers should have tipped her off, she realized). She loved it when Finn took the initiative. Meanwhile she was going to interrupt the moment because she had to pee.

"Mmm..." she moaned as Finn's fingers slipped into her hair. "Can you hold that thought for just a sec while I BR?" she whispered, employing their oft-used abbreviation for the rest room. She cursed herself for not using the bathroom at the studio before heading home.

"Okay," Finn replied softly, kissing her once more before releasing his hold on her hair.

While she was in the bathroom Rachel heard Finn shuffling around and she instinctively bit her lip, curious as to what he had in store for her today. (She felt bad for all of her earlier thoughts about his detachment as of late, but she tried not to think about that. No sense ruining the moment with the BR _and_guilt.) She took a moment to study herself in the mirror, quickly releasing her hair from it's low messy bun and fluffing it out a bit. Along with the rest of her body it was still somewhat sweaty from yoga, but she doubted Finn would care.

When she emerged from the bathroom Finn was leaning against the low counter that separated their open kitchen from the living room. As soon as she was within his reach he engulfed her in his arms and resumed their heated makeout. Right away his fingers teased along the hem of her workout top, and he quickly slipped it over her head. He went back to kissing her as his hands found her breasts, kneading each one with his large hands while he coaxed her around so that she was leaning back on the counter instead of him. His hands left her chest momentarily, pushing her spandex shorts and thong off of her hips and down her legs. Rachel shimmied a little so the garments fell down the rest of the way and kicked them off of her feet, all without breaking the kiss.

Once she was completely naked Finn dragged his lips away from hers and along her jaw and neck until he had covered every inch of those areas. If he'd been guilty of not paying enough attention to his wife lately, he was certainly trying to make up for it now.

Rachel whimpered and closed her eyes, losing herself in the familiar sensations and gripping his shoulders with both hands. After a moment she felt him reaching behind her towards something on the counter.

Her eyes flew open when she felt the ice cube sliding between her shoulder blades, and her body involuntarily stiffened at the feeling of the cold moisture.

"Mmmm..." she moaned as she got used to the sensation.

Meanwhile Finn was still kissing her neck and Rachel felt him smile against her skin. He kept moving the ice cube around on her back, while his tongue teased her pulse point, jawline, and the spot below each of her ears.

When the cube had melted he pulled back slightly, gripping her hips and hoisting her on top of the counter. Staring at her with his smoldering cinnamon eyes, he placed the ice between his teeth and used his mouth to slide the ice cube along her collarbone and down between her breasts. Then he moved over to one of them, teasing the ice around the nipple, before repeating the action on her other peaked bud.

In stark contrast to the cooling of her upper body, Rachel felt her core ignite with that certain ache that only Finn could create.

As if reading Rachel's thoughts about her overheating nether regions, he dragged the now half-melted ice cube away from her left breast and down toward her stomach. His mouth guided it along a meandering path, so it had all but disappeared by the time he reached her navel. He playfully stuck his cool tongue into it as he reached for another cube and settled on his knees in front of the counter.

Apparently content to torture her, Finn started at the bottom of her rib cage, sliding the cube in another lazy downward trek. As the cool trail made its painfully slow way towards her aching core, he used a hand to guide her to lay back on the formica surface. She groaned at the thought of not being able to see what he was doing with the ice, and propped herself up on her elbows so she could monitor his progress. As Finn's mouth reached her stomach once again, he gently grabbed her smooth legs (which were hanging off the edge of the counter somewhat awkwardly given her new angle) teasing his cool fingertips along her calves as he placed her feet on top of his shoulders.

Rachel thought she might die as he expertly guided the ice cube over her hip and along the top of her thigh before sliding it inward toward her throbbing center. She whined when the cube melted before reaching her mound; not that it mattered, since he was seemingly avoiding it on purpose. Sure enough, he started the next cube at her opposite hip bone, brought it down along her inner thigh all the way to her knee, and slid it back up at half speed.

"Finn... please..." They didn't do anything crazy enough to have a "safe word" for sex, but Finn knew how Rachel sounded when she felt that she couldn't handle any more teasing.

Ever the stubborn man, though, he didn't always heed her plea for relief.

He teased the remaining half-cube around the very outside of her mound, still purposely avoiding her slit. After it melted he resumed the same action with a new piece of ice. Rachel shivered from both the tingly-cold feeling and the anticipation of what came next. Even during the other times they'd done this, she'd never felt so cold and so hot in the same region of her body.

Finally, he glided the cube onto her clit.

"Ahhhhh..." she hissed, tensing and laying back all the way when her elbows gave out. Then he moved the ice downward and into her entrance and she practically arched off the counter, lacing a hand into his hair and pressing her feet into his back.

"Finn... Oh my god..." She hated not being able to see him, since the visual of what he was doing usually sent her over the edge about now. Luckily he picked up the pace, sliding the cube in and out of her until it melted away. Rachel didn't even recognize the sounds coming from low in her throat as her breathing increased in speed and she tightened her hold on Finn's hair. His tongue was still cool as it plunged into her, but not nearly as cold as the ice. After a few strokes he swirled his tongue around her frozen nub, and finally her release washed over her as she came with a strangled cry. He continued his ministrations, with gradually decreasing intensity, until she released his hair and exhaled deeply.

Finn kissed his way up her body, still spread out atop the counter, until he was hovering over her and nuzzling her ear. "I love you so much," he whispered.

Rachel smiled. Her husband really was the coolest.

He also had a wickedly stiff erection that was now pressing into her side.

Deciding that two could play the teasing game, she pushed him back so he was standing again and she could sit up. She lightly stroked the other along his torso, slowly, dipping lower and lower on his stomach but never reaching below the waistband of his boxers.

"Rach..." he groaned, his eyes closing as the tent in his underwear twitched noticeably. His hands, which had started off resting on her lap, were now tightly gripping the tops of her thighs.

Rachel couldn't help but smile to herself. She had him right where she wanted him.

Circling her fingertips around his right nipple, she reached behind her with her free hand for a piece of ice, which she abruptly slid along his neck and into the dip of his collarbone. He gritted his teeth and let out a very sexy hiss while she reached up to take the cube between her teeth and swirled her tongue around the juncture of his neck and chest. Then she used her mouth to move the cube lower along the center of his firm chest. She dragged it around his stomach in a haphazard trajectory.

"Uhh," he grunted as the cube descended lower to his waist, moving his hands up to rest on her shoulders.

When the cube melted she pushed him backward and hopped down from the counter, then guided him against the nearest wall. While she reached for the bowl of ice cubes he shamelessly stripped out of his boxers and tossed them aside before leaning back on the wall. Rachel settled on her knees in front of him and resumed her assault on his stomach, drawing shapes and their names with the slowly melting piece of ice. Occasionally she snaked her tongue out to catch some of the moisture and tease his smooth, cool skin.

"Jeez... Rach..." he panted as she dragged the cube down to his thigh, where it melted away. She started the next cube in the same place, returning the favor of torture by purposely avoiding his rock hard member, which was now sticking straight out, perpendicular to his body. Gradually, though, she got closer and closer, and finally took his length into her mouth along with the half-melted cube.

"Rach... oh my god..." he gasped, fingers fisting her hair and knees buckling against the wall.

Encouraged by his reaction, Rachel swallowed more of his rigid cock, closing her mouth around him and moving the ice along his shaft with her tongue.

"Wait... wait..." Finn choked out, patting her shoulder until she released his cock and he could safely pull her into a standing position.

Rachel bit her lip as he stepped back into the kitchen and removed a condom, the foil already torn open, from atop the refrigerator.

As he rolled it on she allowed herself a small internal victory cheer. Finn had come a long way since the mailman days, but when she sucked him with the ice he often couldn't stop himself from finishing in her mouth. She took it as a compliment and didn't mind pleasuring him, especially when he'd already taken care of her.

But sex was always nice, and she felt her loins stirring yet again at the sight of him applying the condom to his impressive dick. When it was properly in place, he wrapped his arms around her torso and roughly grasped her bottom as he crashed his lips to hers and plunged his tongue into her mouth.

"Mmm... Finn..." she gasped as he lifted her off the ground without breaking the kiss.

In one motion he hitched her legs around his waist and entered her with so much force he inadvertently pressed her against the wall.

"Ohh!" she cried out, gripping his shoulders as she got used to his length being inside her.

"You okay, baby?" he asked shakily while he regained his balance, adjusting her legs so they tightened around his hips. Pressing her fully against the wall, on purpose this time, he slowly and deliberately began thrusting into her in earnest.

Rachel closed her eyes, losing herself in the feeling of Finn's hands on her bottom as he stroked himself in and out of her slick channel, their tongues in a renewed battle for dominance. She laced her fingers into his hair and savored the moan that escaped his lips.

"Mmm... you feel so good, Rachel," he whispered as his thrusts became harder. "Just tell me when," he added before nibbling her ear.

Rachel moaned at the new sensation and her hips began meeting his almost involuntarily. "Now, Finn... please..." she breathed into his ear.

Right on cue he took a step back from the wall and quickly walked them back over to the counter, carefully placing Rachel down such that he stayed partially inside her. Once she was settled he found a rhythm again, gripping her hips with both hands and pushing in and out with increasing speed. Rachel braced herself against the counter with both arms and bit her lip, unable to control the high-pitched moans coming from the back of her throat. Finn took the hint that she was close and moved one hand in between them, applying pressure to the bundle of nerves above the place where their bodies connected.

"Mmm... Finn..." she panted, reaching an arm out and grasping his taut shoulder. She dug her heels into his lower back and raised her hips to meet each of his movements.

Continuing both his thrusting and slight flicking of her clit, Finn wrapped his free arm securely around Rachel's back, leaning her to a 45-degree angle with the counter.

She felt him going deeper inside with each movement, and her walls began clenching around him. He kept moving while she clung tightly to both of his shoulders.

"Finn! Ohh god!" After two or three more strokes her orgasm washed over her and she practically shrieked as every nerve ending in her body tingled.

"Uhh, Rach," he grunted, low and raspy as he continued to thrust.

While her wave of pleasure slowly receded, she opened her eyes to watch him. Rachel loved the way Finn looked when he was about to explode inside her – head tilted back, eyes scrunched closed, mouth slightly opened. Trying to help him along, she guided his hands back to her waist and swiveled her hips from side to side. After that it was Finn coming apart amidst their movements.

"Ohh, Rachel..." His knuckles turned white as he wildly pounded into her and emptied into the condom. Gradually he stilled his hips and opened his eyes, kissing her lips gently and resting his head on her shoulder.

After a moment he pulled away and placed his hands on her shoulders. "How you feelin'?" he asked casually.

She thought for a moment, then answered, "Cool."

"Cool," he repeated, flashing his lopsided grin.


	9. The Sixth or Seventh Time

I'm taking something of a cop-out here since this is just a silly drabble from Tumblr. But I think it's something that Chef!Finn would do... and it gets me out of writing my own version of the whole Finchel-first-time thing. (Cop-outs everywhere!) So yeah, spoilers/spec for 3x5 "The First Time."

Oh, and because what follows is a response to an anonymous prompt that just said "ribbed condoms", it's rated T for sexual themes but no graphic depictions of actual sex.

* * *

Finn walked with an extra spring in his step these days.

At one time he was so worried that losing his virginity to Santana would haunt him for the rest of his life and, like, taint every sexual experience he had from there on out. But having sex with Santana had only been about **_having sex_** - doing it just to get the thing out of the way.

Having sex with Rachel, on the other hand, was about having sex _**with Rachel.**_ It was, like, a lifestyle. Taking that step in their relationship had brought them infinitely closer together, and it made him feel so complete and full and other semi-girly emotions he'd never admit to out loud. Their first time had been a little awkward, physically, since he wasn't totally set on how the mechanics were supposed to go from the girl's end and Rachel was shy about expressing her needs. But they were learning together, and each time after that she'd moaned a little louder and clung to him a little more tightly than the time before, which he took to be a good sign.

Granted they were high school kids living under the guise of some fairly involved and somewhat strict parents, so they had only a handful of opportunities to do it through the fall of their senior year. When mid-December arrived, Finn wanted to make sure he did something special for Rachel's birthday.

After doing a little research online one afternoon he drove to a drug store in a neighboring town, just to decrease the chance of running into anyone he knew. He casually looked around the store until he was satisfied that the coast was clear. Then he strode down the contraceptives aisle, unable to shake off a sense of pride.

'Yep,' his confident smile said, 'I am a dude who has regular sex. With a totally hot and awesome chick.'

Finn had never actually purchased condoms before, since Ms. Holliday gave some out in sex ed class towards the end of junior year. Also, a week or so prior, Puck slipped him one after practice when he got a text from Rachel saying that her dads were working late and she was home alone for the next several hours. (His mohawked friend made some remark about helping out his favorite T-Rex and fellow Jew, which Finn ignored since, hello, he was about to have sex.)

But those condoms had been kinda boring and ordinary, and he'd heard that there were other kinds to make things more… interesting. It was worth the trip and the money to make sure Rachel enjoyed herself as much as he did.

He thoughtfully browsed the selection on the shelf before his eyes settled on a particular box.

'Ribbed for his AND her pleasure.'

Yep, that'll work, he thought.

He deftly grabbed the box and paid for it, nodding at the knowing raised eyebrow from the cashier dude who was probably a few years older than him.

Then he drove all the way back to Lima with the same dopey 'I have sex' grin on his face.

* * *

I thank you for your time.

If I write drabbles like this they often wind up here anyway, but you should still follow me (**ja9toextremes**) on Tumblr. :-)


	10. I Don't Care About The Presents

AN: This chapter is a Finchel Secret Santa gift for Nadya, who is **aria-montgomery **on Tumblr. I really hope you like it!

I do not possess any ownership rights to A Christmas Carol, the Manhattan School of Music, Burger King, or the Glee characters. But I own all the typos and grammatical errors since I'm too impatient for a beta. o_0

This chapter is rated T.

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Rachel indulged in a satisfied sighed when she returned to her dressing area backstage after another long day. She had started off by substitute teaching at a middle school on the Upper East Side in the morning before teaching an afternoon voice lesson at the 92nd Street Y, and rounded out the day by performing in an off-Broadway production of A Christmas Carol.

Her 24th birthday was just a week away, and she'd been out of college for two and a half years. For the past two Decembers she had worked in the company of Christmas-themed productions, and she was hoping against hope to finally join the cast of something mainstream for the busy holiday season. But, in the absence of those opportunities she'd accepted a role as Well-Dressed Caroler #1. As always she put her heart and soul into each performance, knowing that every night on stage meant she was closer to achieving her dream of a starring role on Broadway.

After changing into street clothes she packed up her purse, pulling out her cell phone to call Finn. Usually he was finishing up at work around the same time she got offstage, and they often arranged to meet up at a mutually convenient location to ride the subway back to their Brooklyn apartment together.

Before she could place the call, she saw that she had a message from him.

_{ Meet me at work when you get out. }  
_  
Rachel perked up at the short instruction. Finn had been working as an assistant chef at a new trattoria for about two weeks, and she had yet to be invited to see the place. She felt curious as to the reason for his desire that she come by, but most of all she was just excited to inspect the site of her boyfriend's new job.

For the preceding year and a half Finn had worked for Cecil, the eccentric octogenarian restaurateur/caterer. Rachel had been so pleasantly surprised when he interviewed and was hired on the spot. Things started off wonderfully as the older man took Finn under his wing, and the rest of the staff embraced him as well. However, after a few months it became clear that the situation wasn't truly ideal. Obviously nearing the end of his career, Cecil didn't necessarily want to handle the day-to-day aspects of the business… but he couldn't find a sous chef whom he liked _**at all**_, let alone could train to run the entire business. In the restaurant industry high turnover was normal for entry-level chefs and other staff members, but within the first year of Finn's employment with Cecil he worked with three or four different supervisors. To make matters worse, all of them were fired in humiliating and abrupt fashion after falling out of favor with Cecil or his select few favorite staff members. The constant turnover made the environment uncomfortable, especially for Finn since he had gotten along with all of the sous chefs and felt awkward listening to Cecil badmouth them behind their backs.

The situation _**was **_somewhat advantageous since Finn got to work very closely with Cecil and serve as sous chef himself on numerous occasions, in addition to his role with the catering side of the business. But, this meant that he took on a lot of responsibility for someone with his level of experience, with Cecil increasingly critical of his techniques and ideas. It was clear that the older chef was simply too impatient to provide the constructive criticism and guidance that Finn needed at the early stage of his career.

It was difficult for Rachel to watch Finn suffer what can only be described as workplace Stockholm Syndrome – he wanted so badly to learn from Cecil and make him happy, even though the older chef was entirely incorrigible most of the time. Just as in high school Finn's affability was a wonderful asset, but the downside was that he always put such emphasis on being liked and was extremely discouraged by anything resembling disapproval. Rachel had assured him that he was just being sensitive and tried her best to encourage him to continue working hard, but the situation was clearly wearing on him.

Most of all, Rachel hated seeing Finn so worried about where his career was going in the long-term sense and hearing his doubts about whether he was cut out for the New York restaurant industry. She couldn't pretend to understand the ins-and-outs of the business, but she knew that her boyfriend had already overcome his greatest obstacle in finding a career that he enjoyed and _**wanted **_to succeed at. As often as she could manage, she told him that she was proud of him and that he would find his way and become the greatest chef in the city one day. Even on the roughest of nights in Cecil's kitchen, her encouraging words always made Finn smile.

Thankfully, he'd found this new job before things could go too far downhill between him and Cecil, and departed on good terms with the most glowing of recommendations from the older man. And, most fortunately, things were turning around just in time for Christmas, still Finn's favorite holiday.

After her senior year Kim-Kardashian-wish-list debacle they'd agreed to only get each other one **reasonably-priced**, _**meaningful **_gift each year. (This came with the caveat that Rachel's birthday was a week before Christmas and Finn always got her something sparkly for that present, so she couldn't exactly complain.) And, not surprisingly, Rachel took the task of Christmas gift-giving very seriously. She always laughed when either of her fathers lamented that "men are so hard to shop for" considering they both _**are **_men. When buying gifts for Finn, she overcame whatever difficulties the task normally presented by being a super sleuth. During college she paid extra close attention during their phone calls and Skype chats throughout November, mindful of any clues as to what he wanted, and enlisted his friends for help when necessary. She was always prepared well in advance of the holidays, with the perfect gift packed in her suitcase as she returned home to Lima for winter break.

The past two Christmases had been much easier since they'd been living together in New York and she was able to overhear conversations and otherwise investigate what he wanted. This year, though, Finn had been so busy with his work situation that she really hadn't been able to garner any clues. Between his crazy hours for Cecil and covertly searching/interviewing for a new job, Rachel barely saw him during November. For her part she was equally busy with the trifecta of teaching, vocal coaching, and performing.

Luckily, she still had two whole weeks to figure out what to get him. At this point, though, she wasn't above asking him directly just to smooth the way.

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After a short walk she arrived at the restaurant, which was beautifully decorated with lights and wreaths and other festive ornamentation. She smiled to herself as she imagined Finn bouncing into work every day, instantly cheerful amidst the seasonal holiday atmosphere.

Inside, a few patrons lingered around one table towards the front while the wait staff hurriedly cleared off the other tables. Behind the long mahogany bar a pretty blonde girl was restocking the small refrigerator with bottles of beer, idly chatting with a tall, dark-haired man in a white chef's coat seated at a barstool.

"Hey," Rachel said softly as she approached.

"Hey!" Finn replied, leaning over to kiss her before turning back to the other girl. "Rachel, this is Bonnie, the best bartender in all of Manhattan. Bonnie, this is my girlfriend Rachel."

"Ah, the famous Rachel," she said with a playful smirk. "And please. I am not the best bartender anywhere, let alone here."

"Bonnie's also a singer," Finn began, and Bonnie jumped in to explain that she had studied jazz voice and composition at the Manhattan School of Music and was presently singing in cafes and other small venues while preparing to record a demo with a fairly well-known producer. Her father was one of the investors who backed the opening of the restaurant, so she was able to pick up bartending or waitressing shifts when her schedule allowed.

As they chatted the last table of patrons left, sending the busboys and servers into full closing mode. In her own late-night "theater schedule" dining, and while visiting Finn, Rachel had been in plenty of restaurants while they cleaned up for the night, the last few dishes bussed back to the kitchen and chairs stacked upon tabletops so that sweeping and mopping could begin.

Amidst the controlled chaos a somewhat portly middle-aged man in a white coat just like Finn's emerged from the kitchen, eyes intently focused on a clipboard.

"Hudson, great work on the spinach lasagna tonight, it was – oh, hello." He paused when he looked up and noticed Rachel seated at the bar next to Finn.

"Bob, this is my girlfriend Rachel. Rachel, sous chef Bob."

"Ah, pleasure to meet Hudson's girl," Bob said as he engulfed her hand in a hearty shake and raised an eyebrow in Finn's direction. "Your boy here has great talent, great talent!"

Rachel beamed at Finn, who was blushing. "He really does," she agreed. It warmed her heart to observe that his new supervisor was so complimentary and encouraging.

"I mean it, we're lucky to have found him," he added, patting Finn on the back. "_**He **_won't be so lucky this Sunday, rooting for the Bengals, but nobody's perfect."

"Hey man, last time I checked the Browns were out of the playoffs. And that was early November. Your 20 bucks are mine this week."

Rachel expected this football talk since Finn had mentioned that Bob was from eastern Ohio and in their short time as colleagues they'd already "bonded" over their NFL team rivalry. (She hadn't realized that this bond included wagering on the games, which they'd have to talk about later.) Ignoring Finn's jab at the woeful Cleveland team, Bob moved onto talking to Bonnie about the popular bar-menu items that evening.

Meanwhile, Rachel was introduced to the servers and busboys as they finished their clean-up tasks and headed out for the night. Given the later hour Rachel didn't meet any of the restaurant's higher-ups, but she'd already heard about them. Sal, the executive chef, was a bit of a stuffy Italian man, but his treatment of the staff was fair and he didn't necessarily look down upon a bit of laughing and joking in the kitchen. The investor-owners were mainly focused on results and didn't bother the staff day-to-day as long as the kitchen and dining room were run smoothly. Even during the busy closing hour the atmosphere of fun and camaraderie was palpable.

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After another few minutes the rest of the staff had departed, leaving Finn and Rachel alone at the bar. Finn looked around awkwardly for a moment before standing.

"Come on back, I'll show you the kitchen." His large hand engulfed her small one as he led her through the swinging metal doors, pointing out the brick oven for pizza and other aspects of the room before rounding the corner to his prep area.

"Finn!" she exclaimed when she saw the counter adorned with two place settings and candles, just like the setup he used to prepare in the kitchen labs when she visited him at school. "What's the occasion?"

He shrugged. "I just thought it'd be nice to spend a little time together. We've both been so busy lately... I figured it'd be special."

"You are special," she said firmly, stretching up to kiss him before making herself comfortable at a stool on the opposite side of the counter.

Finn opened a small refrigerator marked with his name and removed a few items from the top shelf.

"I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be but I saved you some lasagna. If you don't want any real food I can just scrape together some leftover desserts or something."

"Finn," she began very seriously, "I will _**never **_say no to your lasagna."

In response, Finn leaned across the counter and kissed her firmly on the lips. "This is why I love you."

Rachel only smirked at him, content to let all the other reasons he should love her go unsaid for the time-being.

Finn put on his chef's hat and set about warming up the lasagna, putting out some focaccia bread and olive oil with herbs as well. He also lit the candles and poured them each a glass of chianti, Rachel's favorite red wine.

She couldn't help but smile as she watched him in his element, comfortably gliding about the kitchen while preparing their small meal. Granted he was mostly just reheating food, but she easily imagined him earlier that day, carefully assembling the lasagna and seasoning sauces.

After only a few minutes the food was hot and he served them each a small piece.

"Everyone here seems really nice," Rachel said after swallowing her first bite of Finn's delicious spinach lasagna.

Finn nodded as he finished chewing a piece of bread. "They are," he agreed. "Bob and I get along really well, and Sal's a little stiff sometimes but he let's us do what we want, mostly. Cecil means well, but he's always pointing out what's wrong and comes off as so cranky."

"You miss him a little, don't you?" Rachel asked, half-teasingly.

"Yeah... maybe. It's more just that..." He trailed off as though he knew what he wanted to say but didn't want to say it.

"It's okay, Finn. You can tell me." Was he crazy? He could tell her anything.

"Well, it's just that before I was _**so **_ excited to get away from Cecil and the craziness that seems to follow him everywhere. But now, being here, things can be just as crazy at times, so I wonder if I made the right decision. I mean, what if it doesn't work out here? In college they told us about this - the bouncing around a lot - but I mean, is this my life? Working in a different restaurant every year or two? I just wonder if I can do it. And I wish I could be more, like, normal and stable for you since your gigs are _**supposed **_to change often."

Rachel sighed. "Unfortunately we've both chosen careers that may involve some volatility, and this _**is **_our normal. I think it's mostly exciting that you're part of this new venture. Even just being here at closing it seems like a very pleasant and energetic environment. With a new place, you're all in it together, so you and your colleagues support each other, right?"

He nodded and seemed to relax a little. She reached her hand across the table to touch his.

"As for **us**, you shouldn't feel like your career aspirations come second to mine or that you need to be 'stable' for me. I'm so proud of you for the path you've chosen and how well you're doing. Did you hear the way Bob was praising you before? I have a good feeling about this place and what it means for your success... although I don't necessarily condone the gambling."

Finn laughed heartily at her lighthearted criticism, after which she swapped her embellished frown for a bright smile.

"For now, it seems like we're as settled as we can expect to be, and I'm totally happy with it as long as you're happy. Okay?"

Finn nodded, his eyes intently fixated on hers.

Not wanting to belabor the issue of career uncertainty, Rachel changed the subject to the first thing that came to mind.

"Have you given any thought as to what you want for Christmas?" she asked, nonchalantly stabbing her last piece of lasagna with her fork.

Finn cleared his throat. "I have, actually."

With that he slid off his stool, taking both her hands in his as he rounded the counter to stand next to her.

"Rach, I realize for a while there I wasn't so easy to deal with because of the job stuff, and like I said I'm sorta _**still **_ worried about it and…" He paused, clearly aware that he was in danger of rambling, and she could do nothing besides look on curiously and wait for him to resume speaking. "What I'm trying to say is, you're what got me through. You're always what gets me through. I still admire your big dreams, and your belief that both of us can be whatever we want if we keep at it. If you hadn't been so optimistic and encouraging this whole time I may have just quit Cecil's and gone to work at a Burger King or something."

His lips twitched in a small smile and Rachel couldn't help but laugh out loud. Finn hadn't even _**eaten **_at Burger King in years.

Her laugh made him laugh as well, after which he regained his composure. "Anyway, I wouldn't be where I am without your support. And I agree with what you said before, about both of us being as settled as we're going to be for a while. So, like I vaguely recall saying before, all I want for Christmas is you." He took a deep breath and reached into his pocket, removing a black velvet jewelry box and taking a knee in front of her stool.

Rachel's heart leapt into her throat when she realized what was happening. She'd always known that she and Finn would marry, and at this point in her life she didn't need some dramatic proposal to move their relationship to the next level. Quite frankly, given their two and a half years of cohabitation since college she'd assumed that they were already sort-of engaged and would move directly to discussions of where their wedding ceremony should take place and whether they could fit an official honeymoon into their busy schedules. Yet there he was, on one knee in a restaurant kitchen and about to brandish a ring.

"Rachel," he began, his voice shaky.

"Yes, Finn. Yes!" Delivering her answer before he could even ask the question, she launched herself into his arms as happy tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and every joyous emotion imaginable flooded her insides.

Finn did his best to steady them and avoid toppling backwards onto the kitchen floor, still holding the ring box in one hand. Mindful of their precarious position Rachel straightened herself up as well, resting her hands on his shoulders and staring into his warm caramel eyes.

She didn't think the fuzziness surrounding her heart could become more intense, but after they shared a sweet kiss and a comfortable, excited silence, he suggested she try the ring on. Seeing the beautiful gold circle with the small sparkly stone on her finger made it all seem so _**real **_ and wonderful. It didn't really matter to her how much he spent on it or what the thing looked like – although the gold stars etched into the band were a nice touch. What mattered was that despite the recent transition in his professional life, Finn took the time to purchase and surprise her with a symbol of their love and a promise for their future together. Now, every time she looked down at her hand she'd be reminded, even more so than usual, of their unbreakable connection and commitment to one another.

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When Rachel was done basking in the glow of the moment, Finn cleared their dishes and began cleaning up the rest of the counter. Meanwhile, she called her dads, despite the late hour and the fact that Finn asked for their permission beforehand so they already knew of the impending engagement. ("Still so chivalrous after all this time," she remarked when they informed her of his traditional request.) Then they closed up the restaurant and boarded the subway back to Brooklyn and... _**celebrated **_accordingly when they arrived back at their apartment.

"Does this really mean I don't have to get you a gift?" she asked cautiously, snuggling into his embrace under their fluffy down comforter.

Finn gently squeezed her shoulder. "I already have everything I could possibly want." With that he planted a few kisses along her ear and down her jaw, settling his face in the crook of her neck.

After a pause Rachel felt his lips curl into a smile.

"Tickets to a Nets' game would also be sweet, though..."

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AN #2: For some reason I never really wanted to write a Finchel proposal, but recently something just moved me. Hopefully I didn't over-saturate the genre of Christmastime Finchel proposal fics that popped up before I could force myself to finish this. Your reviews are greatly appreciated!


	11. Like Father, Like Daughter

_This chapter is a fill for the "Like Father, Like Daughter" prompt from the Finchel-prompts Tumblr. For a previous chapter featuring the father and daughter in question I refer you to chapter 7._

_Many thanks to **profitina **for betaing._

I don't own Glee, any of the other theatrical works mentioned, the Park Slope YMCA, or the New Jersey Nets (who will become the Brooklyn Nets next season).

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"Daddy!"

Finn was behind the bar at his restaurant with Ryan when Celine burst through the front door, still clad in her tights and leotard after ballet class at the Park Slope YMCA.

"Hey, kiddo! How was dance today?"

"Look!" she exclaimed, more or less ignoring his question as she perched on a stool and shoved a yellow flier in his face.

Putting down his plate, he took the sheet from her and began reading it aloud. "The Park Slope Y invites all community members in grades 1 through 5 to perform in -" he changed the inflection in his voice to a more ceremonial tone - "Once Upon a Mattress"!

"Can I? Can I?" Celine squealed, practically bouncing in her seat as Finn read some of the fine print. Rehearsals would start in three weeks, after school ended, and would take place every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon. The show would go up during the last weekend in August.

"I don't see why not," he began. All of the kids' summer activities were based out of the Y, so it wasn't like it'd take her away from anything else.

Rachel got home from the theater at her usual time, after Celine and Billy were both asleep. She greeted her husband, who was seated at the dining room table reading his monthly Restaurant Business magazine. Also on the table was the flier Celine had brought home, complete with the words "Mommy! Look!" scrawled out in pink marker.

"Finn! Do you realize what this means?" Rachel asked excitedly, clutching the paper to her chest.

"That our little girl is testing the waters of following in your footsteps and that you shouldn't totally freak out about it?"

Rachel squealed quietly, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clearly ignoring Finn. "Ohh I've been waiting for this day ever since she started ballet. I _**knew **_that eventually she'd be interested in theater as well. And how fortunate are we to be raising our children in a community where the arts are celebrated instead of berated! While Celine's singing voice isn't quite as strong as mine was at her age, she's still young and with enough practice–"

"Rach," Finn closed the magazine and took Rachel's hand while she continued to babble about open-fifth scales and vocal coaches. "Rach!"

"What?" she stared at him, eyes still sparkling with wonder.

"Just… calm down, okay? Celine's interested in ballet and theater _**now**_.But she won't even turn 7 until November, and kids change their minds all the time. She could very well wake up in two years wanting to be a comic book artist or hairdresser or MMA fighter." He paused. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up and be disappointed later on if this doesn't stick. Which, I might add, is more likely to happen if you get all _**Rachel Berry**_and put too much pressure on her."

Rachel exhaled dramatically. "You're right." She leaned forward to kiss him. "Rachel Berry could be very intense and overbearing and even manipulative. But Rachel Berry Hudson will not pressure her daughter in any way shape or form. I promise."

Over the next few months Rachel kept her word, helping Celine practice songs when she asked and giving her performance pointers, all in a calm and casual manner. For her part, their little girl loved every minute of participating in the show… almost as much as Rachel loved watching her at the end of the summer.

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In talking with some of the other neighborhood parents, Rachel learned that the Y posted that year's musical selection on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. When Celine was about to finish second grade, Rachel made a point of waking Celine up on Saturday morning so they could walk over and check the bulletin board before Rachel had to head off to midtown for her matinee performance of Wicked.

"Annie! The musical this year is Annie!" Celine shouted excitedly when they returned home, scurrying immediately to the computer in the living room to start looking up the characters and songs.

Her exuberance contrasted starkly with her father and brother, who sat at the kitchen table in their pajamas with matching disheveled hair and tired-looking faces.

"Isn't that great, _**guys**_," Rachel said pointedly, directing a glare at her husband and son while she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, great, awesome," they both said between bites of cereal with forced enthusiasm.

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"Grease!" Rachel practically screeched as she and her daughter stared at the Y's drama bulletin board. "You know why Grease is special, right sweetie?"

Celine, who was almost finished with third grade, rolled her eyes but leaned affectionately into her mother's side nonetheless. "Because when you and Daddy first sang together it was a song from Grease." Her tone was that of an 8-year-old who's heard the same story too many times.

"I was thinking of maybe auditioning for a _**real**_ part this year," Celine said as they walked back to their house.

"Oh," Rachel said simply, resisting the urge to perk up too eagerly at Celine's statement. "Do you know which part you'd want?"

Celine shrugged, kicking the ground a little with her next step. The awkwardness of the action reminded her of Finn in some odd way.

When they got home Rachel immediately dug up an old script and sat with Celine on the couch, explaining the characters.

"What about Patty Simcox?" Rachel went on to describe the nature of the prim, goody-two-shoes character.

In the ensuing weeks mother and daughter ran lines whenever they were awake and home together. Celine perfected a prissy little strut and know-it-all tone-of-voice, all with Rachel's direction and encouragement.

Meanwhile, whenever Celine wasn't around, Rachel was a nervous wreck.

"What if she doesn't get it? What if she puts in all this work and they don't appreciate her-"

"Rach, chill." Finn turned towards her on the bed and emphasized his words with a soft kiss and gentle stroke to her hair. "If she doesn't get it, she'll enjoy being in the ensemble like she has the past few years and she'll try again next summer."

Of course, when the fateful audition day arrived Rachel had to be at work herself, so Finn was the one to walk Celine over to the Y and provide moral support. He was terrified that she'd be nervous without her mom there and he wouldn't know what to do. But luckily for him their little girl seemed entirely calm and composed.

Rachel taught her well, he thought with a grin as they entered the building.

As instructed, Finn waited in the lobby while Celine went in for her audition. Twenty minutes later she emerged with a bounce in her step, declaring that she gave it her best and she'd patiently wait for their decision.

Rehearsals started a few days later, and Celine bounded into the restaurant on Wednesday evening, proudly declaring that she got the part. Finn hugged her in congratulations before Ryan and the wait staff gave her high-fives. Against his better judgment Finn let Celine stay up until Rachel got home that night so she could deliver the good news to her mom. He made sure to stand off to the side and let them have their special moment.

When late August rolled around, Celine was definitely the cutest Patty Simcox that Finn had ever seen. But what he enjoyed more was the pride on Rachel's face when they watched her perform.

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The next winter Celine would not stop talking about basketball once they started that unit in gym class. She'd gotten to be a little taller than most of the other girls and it must've provided an advantage since it was the first time she'd expressed even the mildest interest in any sport despite the enthusiasm her father and brother exhibited. Basketball was their main obsession due to Finn's college career, and the fact that the Brooklyn Nets played only a few blocks away. Several players frequented Finn's restaurant and often gave their favorite bistro owners free tickets and other team swag. Celine had been to a few games but had never seemed terribly interested.

In the spring, she came home with a flier for a new summer developmental program at the Y. "Mr. Luongo said I have the best three-throw shooting form of all the girls," she declared proudly at dinner one Sunday.

Billy snickered before correcting her in his ubiquitously obnoxious preteen-boy voice. "It's _**free**_-throw, not _**three**_-throw."

"William! You apologize for speaking to your sister that way!" Rachel scolded.

"But it's true! She said it wrong," he whined, aimlessly pushing a piece of broccoli around on his plate.

"That's true," Finn began as he swallowed a mouthful of salad, earning a muted glare from his wife, "but we don't talk to each other that way in this family."

"Sorry, Cel," their son offered reluctantly.

"Besides, you should be glad your sister's Hudson genes have kicked in and she's good at hoops. Aren't you, Evan, and Tristan always looking for a fourth player?" Finn asked. Billy had never played organized basketball, opting for karate lessons as his main sports activity, but he and his two best friends played pickup games when the weather was agreeable and they could snag one of the nearby playground courts.

Before Billy could answer, Rachel abruptly changed the subject to homework.

"So, Celine and basketball, huh?" Rachel said as she and Finn got ready for bed that night, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

He merely shrugged as he stripped out of his jeans and got under the covers.

"I know you're excited about this; you don't have to hide it." She smiled, crawling into bed next to him. "You love bonding over sports with Billy and you want to do the same with Celine."

"Maybe," he admitted, smiling a little dopily while Rachel ruffled his hair and kissed his temple.

Then she sighed. "Can you just understand that I'll feel a little left out if _**both **_of our kids become focused on athletics instead of arts?"

"I certainly understand that," Finn answered, leaning down to kiss her softly as she snuggled against him. "But I also understand a few other things about you."

"Oh really?" Rachel asked, turning towards him and playfully batting her eyelashes.

"Yep. I'm very perceptive." He laced his fingers into hers and continued in a more serious tone. "I understand that you'll support our kids no matter what activities they do. Remember how you thought you'd hate watching Billy do karate? Within two weeks you knew all the Japanese terms better than he did, and you were the most vocal parent at his first demonstration."

"You're right about that," she conceded, recalling how Billy's sensei had to pull her aside and tell her to quiet down in the dojo.

That summer, Rachel helped Celine win the role of Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady. The accomplishment (and her impeccable performance) took some of the sting out of her dropping ballet class to make room for the basketball league. But, as Finn predicted, Rachel observed the play and the basketball scrimmages with equal adoration and enthusiasm.

Once school started again in the fall Celine resumed ballet, but she didn't seem as interested in it as before. Luckily Rachel wasn't too quick to pick up on the change, and Finn certainly didn't point it out to her.

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"Gertie Cummings? Really?" They'd recently found out that the 6th through 12th graders would be performing Oklahoma! that summer, and Rachel was surprised that Celine didn't want to try for a more impressive role after starring as Eliza the prior summer.

"This is the _**upper division**_ musical, Mom," Celine implored, rolling her eyes while she took a bite of cereal. "Katie's cousin Jake performed in them every summer and he said that it's _**much **_more serious and competitive than in the younger division."

"Still, why not take a chance and go out for Aunt Eller or Ado Annie? It can't hurt." Rachel couldn't imagine that the neo-hipster teens of Park Slope were flocking to audition for the show. "The worst that happens is that they give you a smaller role instead."

Celine groaned in the manner developed and patented by preteen girls. "I just don't want to, okay?" With that she got up and plunked her bowl in the sink before huffing out of the dining room. As she began her stomping ascension of the stairs she passed a half-awake Finn, who'd stumbled out of the bedroom yawning sleepily.

"What's with her?" he asked once Celine's door slammed shut, joining Rachel at the table with his own bowl of cereal. After she recounted her conversation with their younger child Finn gently reminded her of her promise not to push Celine too hard when it came to the play.

"I should go up and talk to her, shouldn't I?" Rachel sighed when Finn simply stared at her blankly.

She slowly climbed the stairs and knocked on Celine's bedroom door, where butterfly stickers had recently been covered up by a big Nets poster. A reluctant "Yeah, come in," emanated from the other side. Opening the door revealed Celine packing her bag for the day. Rachel sat on her bed and looked at the clock on the nightstand, noting that they had a solid five minutes until she'd have to leave for school.

"Come sit and talk to me for a second." She patted a spot on the bed next to her. Celine zipped her bag closed and sat down next to her mother, fidgeting with the drawstring of her hoodie.

"I didn't mean to pressure you about the play," Rachel began. "I just imagined that after _**starring **_in last year's show you'd want to try for a major role this summer. _**Everyone **_thought you were wonderful as Eliza, not just me and your dad." She paused, almost afraid to ask the question. "Didn't you enjoy it?"

"Yeah…" Celine began, her eyes on the floor. "It was just a lot of work to memorize all of those lines, and this year the play will be harder, and I want to make sure I have time for basketball so I can practice and make the school team next year."

"I see," Rachel said, taking in what Celine had just explained. "If you think it'll be too much you don't have to audition for a part at all, you know. You could just be in the ensemble."

"No, Mom, I _**do **_want to audition for Gertie." She turned towards Rachel. "I like practicing lines with you and having a part that's _**only**_ mine."

"Ah, so you are my daughter after all," Rachel chided, elbowing her side gently and earning a laugh from Celine.

A few weeks later Celine got the role of Gertie, with Rachel's help in preparing for the audition. And as usual, whenever there were dishes to be done or laundry to be folded, their duplex apartment was filled with the sounds of mother and daughter singing songs from the play.

When school started again Celine replaced her twice-weekly dance classes with a basketball clinic sponsored by the Nets, and in the winter she successfully tried out for the girls' basketball team. The games were all on Saturdays in the late-morning or early afternoon so Rachel couldn't attend very many of them, but when she was there she made her presence known. Celine blushed and shook her head the first time she saw the "Team Celine" t-shirt, but she never asked Rachel not to wear it.

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As a sixth grader Celine sat down at the breakfast table on the last Friday morning of May, nose buried in The Giverwhile she started her usual bowl of Multi-Grain Cheerios.

"I read that book when I was your age," Rachel said happily, turning away from the counter and her half-diced cantaloupe. When Celine didn't respond she went back to cutting the fruit.

After a few minutes she finished the task and joined her daughter at the table. "So, I know you're sleeping at Katie's tonight. Should I pick you up there tomorrow morning or will you come home first before we walk over to the Y?"

"You _**really**_ want to go over and look at the bulletin board? They've been putting the info online for years now." Celine didn't even look up from her book while she responded.

Rachel's heart sank at this reaction. "It's tradition!" She tried to sound cheerful, hoping that persistence would change Celine's mind. "Or are you getting too old to be seen around the neighborhood with your old mom?" she joked.

With that Celine rolled her eyes and stood from the table. "It's not that, Mom. But I don't want to wake up early and leave Katie's _**just **_to go over to the Y. We can check online together when you get home from work tomorrow night, or something." She cleared her breakfast dishes and grabbed her bag, kissing her dejected mother goodbye before leaving for school.

Rachel was still sulking on the couch a half-hour later when Finn woke up and emerged from their bedroom.

"It's happening, Finn."

"Huh?" he asked, yawning and stretching as he flopped down next to her, and she recounted the events of earlier.

"My little girl is outgrowing her mom," she concluded tearfully, leaning on Finn's shoulder.

"Please," he began, wrapping an arm around his wife and squeezing her affectionately. "Celine's glorious teen years are coming. She's going to need her mom more than ever, even if she doesn't realize it yet."

Rachel sighed. "Maybe. I'm just afraid of losing that special connection with her, especially since lately she's gotten so into basketball. Then again you've actually been around for her after school, so it's no wonder that she's taken up your interests."

"_Hey_," Finn insisted softly, trying to comfort her. "You and I are not in a contest for our daughter's love. At any rate, I've been studying the female population for over 40 years now and I can say that if it _**was **_a contest you'd definitely win. She could shave her head and take up the drums and she'd still have more in common with you than with me."

She gasped at the mere suggestion of those changes, then relaxed a little before Finn continued.

"Also, both of our kids are now at the point where they don't want to be around either of us. They don't really hang around at the restaurant like they used to, and when they do it's a constant barrage of _**sarcasm**_ and rolling eyes and '_**Jeez**_, Dad,' 'You're not _**funny**_, Dad.' This one time last week-"

Rachel silenced his rant with a kiss. "You, Chef Finn, are not allowed to complain about seeing our children every afternoon. But I understand your point."

The musical that summer turned out to be Fiddler on the Roof, which greatly excited Rachel as the story evoked important themes in her Jewish heritage. Meanwhile, her fears about Celine's preference for basketball became reality, as the young Hudson avoided auditions and took a role in the ensemble of Anatevka townspeople. Further, whereas in prior summers she and her friends from the play would meet up on the weekends to go over their lines and practice songs, this year she and some other girls from the basketball program regularly gathered at one of the neighborhood playgrounds to practice free throws and play pick-up games. A few times when her friends weren't available she even got her brother to play with her.

Rachel understood what Finn meant, that the kids' behavior reflected their age and wasn't a personal affront to them as parents. She just couldn't stop herself from thinking that it would hurt a little less if Celine was throwing herself into something artistic instead of athletic.

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When Celine was in 7th grade, the Nets had their best season since before she was born. Billy was still a big fan of the team but having started high school he was more interested in hanging out with his friends or too busy with homework or extracurricular to attend games. Meanwhile Celine's interest in the team was growing along with her enthusiasm for playing basketball. Rachel also suspected that her daughter had a crush on Bradley Robertson, a rookie shooting guard who ate at Finn's restaurant nearly every day and always took the time to chat with each of the children when they stopped by.

At any rate, the 12-year-old frequently accompanied her father to the Barclays Center on Flatbush Avenue, and when the team was on the road they glued themselves to their living room television.

The Friday night of Memorial Day weekend Rachel returned home from the theater to find her husband and daughter yelling at the living room television. Not wanting to distract them, Rachel said hello quietly and observed that Brooklyn was down by one point with five minutes to play in the seventh and deciding game of the conference finals against Chicago.

"What the hell! That was _**totally **_a foul!" the preteen girl exclaimed.

"Seriously!" Finn agreed, throwing his hands up in dismay. "But don't say 'hell,' sweetie," he added, clearly motivated by his wife's presence.

After heating up the plate of food Finn had left for her, Rachel joined them in the living room.

"Robertson, for three! Drains it with seven seconds left in regulation!"

"Yes!" Finn and Celine high-fived and then sat with bated breath as the Nets pulled out the win. After rejoicing over the victory they debated which of the two remaining Western Conference teams would be an easier opponent. Even though she couldn't add much to the conversation Rachel smiled at the enthusiasm in their voices.

Amidst the discussion Billy arrived home and grunted a weak hello on his way upstairs. After he'd passed through the living room, Celine yawned in somewhat exaggerated fashion.

"Well, it's late, I should get to bed too," she said as she stood, yawning and stretching.

Finn cleared his throat, loudly and awkwardly, before raising his eyebrows at Celine and subtly nodding his head in Rachel's direction.

"What?" the middle-aged actress asked in a panic. "Do you not like this new haircut? I told the stylist that the layers shouldn't be so choppy but-"

"Nah Rach, your hair looks good." By this point Finn was practically glaring at Celine even as he complimented his wife.

"Yeah, it does." The teenage girl looked at the floor. "Can we talk, Mom?"

Finn swiftly excused himself and retired to the master bedroom.

"Everything okay, Cel?" Rachel asked as she relocated to the couch next to Celine.

The young girl sighed, nervously twisting a piece of hair between her fingers before slipping it behind her ear and looking up at Rachel warily. "I don't want to do the play this summer."

"Ah." Rachel wasn't surprised by the revelation but that didn't mean she knew what to say. "Any particular reason why not?"

"It's a few things, really. I'd just much rather focus on basketball and have time to hang out with my friends."

"You don't consider rehearsal to constitute 'hanging out with friends'?"

"Not really. My only friend even doing the musical this year is Melissa, but she's _**way **_obsessed with her future career as a Broadway star and doesn't think that I take the musical seriously enough because I only do it for fun."

It didn't seem like Celine was finished so Rachel merely nodded, suppressing a smile at the thought that she'd always liked Melissa and her enthusiasm for the play.

"Besides, I'd rather have actual **free **time to socialize instead of slaving away with choreography or making costumes or whatever."

Rachel sighed at the memory of her own busy teenage summers. "That's certainly something to consider." She didn't regret her many activities since building her resume paid off in the end, but she always wondered if turning it down a notch would have been just as well.

"I know you want me to be 'well-rounded' so I can get into college and stuff, and we have a music requirement in school so I'll still be in chorus during the year," Celine pointed out. "Singing is still important to me since that's how you and Dad met," she added, grinning the lopsided smile both children had inherited from Finn.

Rachel felt tears stinging her eyes as she hugged Celine to her side. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Also," Celine began, "if I have those afternoons free I can take that yoga class with you. Or we can do something else to spend time together, you know?"

This time Rachel teared up in earnest and pulled her youngest child into a crushing embrace. Recently she'd become more keenly aware than ever that her babies were growing into mature young adults, with their own bits of insight and wisdom about the world. She wasn't necessarily surprised that Celine wanted to cease her involvement in the play in favor of basketball, but the fact that she had formulated a whole plan which also included an activity with her old mom made Rachel feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"Out of curiosity, did you look up which musical they'll be doing this year?" Rachel inquired after composing herself.

"Yeah. It's West Side Story," Celine replied, wincing.

"Ohh," Rachel breathed. "Did I ever tell you about-"

"About how your senior year of high school Uncle Kurt wanted to be Tony so badly and you tried to help him audition but failed miserably? Yeah I've heard that story."

"Well I was **going **to ask if I'd told you about how Mike Chang defied his father's decree against singing and dancing to play an _**amazing **_Riff," she clarified. "I'd never want you to do the opposite and stick with the musical to make me happy even though you don't enjoy it."

She paused.

"Since you mentioned it... can you even _**imagine **_Kurt as Tony?"

Celine kept a straight face for a moment as though she was thinking before bursting out into a giggle. "Nope, not at all."

Her reaction made Rachel dissolve into laughter as well.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bedroom door, Finn relaxed. Just as he'd predicted, his wife and daughter were still getting along just fine.

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_Your reviews make me squee!  
_


	12. Puppy Love

AN: Hello party people. This chapter is a fill for a prompt suggested several months ago by **GeekyGleek**. The first little bit appeared on Tumblr as a drabble but has been extended here for everyone's reading pleasure.

Thanks to **profitina** for betaing and assuring me that I didn't say anything about of left-field about dog ownership, which I have never experienced nor plan on attempting.

Also just a quick reminder that this is an AU-future in which Finn and Rachel went to college in different cities but didn't break up, and Burt didn't get elected to Congress. (Not critical information but it is important for one aspect of the forthcoming tale.)

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"Woof! Woof!"

"Sit! Sit! Good doggy."

Finn sat at the kitchen table going over purchase orders, only vaguely aware of his 6-year-old son and 4-year-old daughter playing close by in the adjacent living room of their brownstone duplex.

_**What **_they were playing didn't register until he diverted his eyes from the endless sea of papers and looked up at them.

"Billy! Celine! What are you doing?"

Finn was horrified by the sight of his daughter down on all fours while his son held a rope that had been tied around her neck (her neck!) and pretended to walk her.

"We're pretending Celly is a dog!"

Celine panted and offered a short bark in confirmation.

"You know... since we don't have a real dog," Billy added.

Finn rolled his eyes. "First of all, let go of that before you choke your sister. Secondly, and for the _**last **_time, Bill, we're not getting a dog until you are both older and able to be responsible for a pet."

Meanwhile, as if _trying_to illustrate his point, Celine stopped crawling around and lifted her leg, pretending to pee on Rachel's elliptical in the corner of the room.

"But Daaaad..." Billy whined.

"'But Dad' nothing," Finn said firmly, contemplating his next move. "We can't get a dog until... both of you are in school."

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he'd regret them later. But for the time-being it kept the kids at bay and they moved on to playing with some of their toys.

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One problem (well, Finn saw it as a problem, anyway) with living in Brooklyn was the astronomical canine population. Many people lived in small townhomes or brownstone duplexes or even apartments that afforded enough space to house a dog or two along with several humans. Whenever the Hudsons went to the park or even just walked down the street, there were always dogs around. The kids often approached the ones that seemed friendly and asked the owner the animal's name and asked permission to pet him or her.

Still, any talk of their family adopting a dog was successfully staved off for several years.

Until Celine's best friend Katie got a puppy.

"His name is Benji and he's a mix of a Golden Retriever and a Collie and he's kinda small now but Katie says someday he's going to be big and fluffy!" she explained excitedly over dinner one Sunday night.

"Awesome!" Billy said.

Although fearful of where the conversation was headed, Finn kept quiet. At least the kids were agreeing on something for once, instead of the usual bickering that went on between them.

"Wouldn't having a dog be fun, Mom?" Billy asked.

Rachel exhaled before answering. "It might be," she offered, "but have you considered the hard work and responsibilities that come with owning a pet? Dogs need to be walked twice a day so they can do their business – some of which you'll have to _**pick up**_, by the way. And they need to be trained so they don't eat the furniture and behave themselves around strangers."

The children contemplated her explanation in silence for a moment as they ate.

Finn smiled, amazed at how well Rachel was able to hit the high notes in delivering her maternal wisdom to the kids in just a few sentences.

"I still think it'd be totally fun," Billy said, biting into a chicken finger. "A dog could pull us through the park on a sled when it snows!"

"And we could dress it up for Halloween!" Celine suggested, her voice a squeal patented by 9-year-old girls.

Across the table, Finn rolled his eyes liberally, trying to tune out the rest of the ridiculous dog discussion.

"Don't think I didn't see you at dinner, mister," Rachel said sternly that night after the kids had gone to bed.

"What? Me?" Finn answered without looking up from his iPad, trying to play dumb and avoid whatever his wife wanted to talk about with respect to future family pets.

"Yes, you," she insisted, sitting next to him on the bed. "You shied away from the dog discussion like the plague."

"Only trying to learn from past experiences, Rach."

Rachel wrinkled her brow, slightly confused. "_What _past experiences? You didn't have a dog growing up."

"We didn't. But I'm sure you remember that after Kurt and I went away to college, my mom got one." By now he'd turned off the iPad and turned towards Rachel.

"Sparky," she supplied, recalling the small terrier who had since passed away after a long (by dog standards) and happy life.

"Right. Burt tried to talk her out of the whole thing, but Mom was convinced that it wouldn't be that much work, the house was so empty otherwise, etc.," he explained, waving his arm for effect. "They adopted Sparky and – lo and behold – my mom's varying work schedule made it difficult for her to walk him and play with him and stuff. At first I guess they shared the responsibilities, but gradually Burt wound up doing _**everything**_."

"Aww, poor Burt." Rachel finished applying lotion to her legs and got under the covers next to Finn. "It always seemed like he loved that dog, though."

"He did," Finn said with a sigh. "But it's the principle of the thing. Besides, I don't think the kids are old enough to realize how much work it'd be, which means they aren't ready to take are of a pet."

"Hmm, funny, I remember someone trying to convey that message at dinner, while someone else just huffed into his salad," she said with mock wonder.

"Yeah yeah, you're awesome," Finn conceded, wrapping an arm around her small body and pulling her closer to him, hoping to _show _her some gratitude instead of just talking about her success.

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"So we were completely ready to start set construction at the Jane Street Theater, but apparently Lawrence had 'a bad experience' there ten years ago and refuses to set foot in the establishment!" An exasperated Rachel explained the trials and tribulations of her latest job – an original play in which she was co-starring and co-producing – to her family over breakfast one morning.

"That director sounds like a quack," Finn said as he served himself a second helping of oatmeal.

"It should be fine," Rachel went on. "We can move into the Players' Theater in another two weeks. I'm not going to argue with the additional rehearsal time, but it also means more waiting and anticipation."

"That sounds stressful," Celine said with forced non-chalance. "You know, they say having a dog reduces stress. So if we got a dog all this stuff with your play would seem like no problem!"

Billy's eyes lit up at her suggestion. "Yeah! Why can't we get a dog yet?"

Rachel sighed. "I don't know. It's up to your father."

The kids gasped audibly and shared an excited glance at having (apparently) won over one parent on their years-long crusade to get a dog. They both turned to Finn with cautious anticipation.

"Let's talk about it another time, okay? You both need to leave for school."

"But Dad-"

"School. Now. Both of you," he said sternly. The kids complied by gathering their coats and backpacks before Rachel walked them to the door and sent them off for the day. Then she returned to the kitchen and began loading the breakfast plates into the dishwasher.

"Thanks a lot, Rach." Finn's voice dripped with sarcasm and he crossed his arms in frustration, leaning against the counter. "Way to break our Team Finchel parenting approach and leave me hanging."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry." She attempted to placate him by leaning over and placing a soft kiss on his lips. "But the kids are old enough now that we should be honest with them."

"And you honestly think they're ready to take care of a puppy." It was a statement, as though he was finishing her thought; not a question.

"I do. But it's not up to me, because most of the supervision will fall on you."

"Exactly," Finn groaned. "If we can wait until they're just a _**few **_years older – what?" He interrupted himself when Rachel started laughing at him.

"I don't know, you just sound like such a disgruntled dad when you say it like that," she giggled.

"But seriously," she went on once she composed herself, "do you really think more time will help that much? It's not like Bill is going to wake up one day having magically transformed into an uber-responsible adult. Our job as parents is to help the kids _**learn **_how to be responsible and mature by presenting them with challenges."

Finn sighed. She had a point.

He hated when that happened.

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The kids' campaign continued relentlessly for the next week.

"But Dad, you said we could get a dog when we were older and we _**are**_. I'll be in high school in 4 months!"

"Bill, I really can't discuss this now. We're catering a big event tonight and Uncle Ryan already called me three times about going downstairs." Finn hurriedly gathered up some papers from the kitchen table, where Celine sat with her laptop.

"Bye Daddy," the 11-year-old said sweetly, smiling up at Finn from behind her screen.

"Bye, kiddo."

The door to the apartment slammed behind the departing Finn and Billy emitted a self-indulgent huff. After a moment he meandered over to the refrigerator and removed a container of leftover meatballs for reheating.

"Don't worry about the dog thing. I got it." Celine didn't even divert her eyes from the screen as he joined her at the table with his snack.

Billy scowled. "What makes you think you can convince him? I've been trying since before you can even remember."

"Easy. Don't you pay attention when Mom and Dad talk to each other?"

"Not really," he answered through a mouthful of meatball, clearly clueless as to where she was going.

Celine rolled her eyes. "I once heard Mom say that Dad is a 'visual learner.' That means to get through to him we have to be _**visual**_." With that she turned the laptop screen towards Billy, revealing a PowerPoint presentation she had created.

Still scowling at his sister's audacity he started clicking through the slides. Once he got to the end of the presentation he was admittedly impressed.

"This is good, Cel." He finished his meatballs in silence, ignoring her smug expression as she put the finishing touches on the presentation.

Later that night, once Rachel got home from the theater, Celine made a big show of sitting her parents on the couch and setting her laptop on a tray table in front of them. Billy stood next to her even though he was content to let Celine do all the talking.

Once sure she had their attention, she cleared her throat. "Mom, _**Dad**_," she began. "As you are aware, we've wanted a pet dog for several years. Tonight, we'll explain to you the numerous reasons why we're ready for the responsibility."

Rachel tried to contain her smile, clearly pleased and amused by the children's approach to winning Finn over.

The presentation they put on included a mock schedule, describing how Billy and Celine would take turns walking their future pet and divide other tasks entailed in his or her care. There were also a few sides on the health benefits of having a pet and the happiness in particular that dogs brought to their owners. Finally, they displayed information about a nearby shelter where they could adopt an animal rescued from the streets of the city, and the name and number of a well-respected veterinary clinic in the neighborhood.

"In conclusion, we feel that we are capable of taking care of a dog and would greatly appreciate the addition of a pet to our family. Thank you."

Rachel quietly clapped in the kids' direction until she felt Finn's eyes on her.

"Sorry," she whispered after stopping abruptly.

Finn took a deep breath and let it out slowly, studying his kids'

"Okay," he said, albeit reluctantly.

"Okay?" Celine asked anxiously while Rachel and Billy also looked on with caution.

"Yeah. You can be excited now."

"Yes!" Billy high-fived his sister and ran to hug Finn in an expression of gratitude.

"Thanks, Daddy!" Celine exclaimed as she joined in the hug. Then she bounded for the stairs up to her room, clearly intent on going online immediately to share the good news with her friends via every imaginable internet outlet. "We promise we'll be so good and take care of her and it's just going to be _**so**_ great!"

" 'Her?' Who decided we're getting a girl dog?" Billy asked as he followed her up the stairs.

With that Finn hung his head in his hands, cursing himself for the amount of arguments and disputes this new milestone was going to create in his life.

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Finn agreed that they could get a dog on the condition that the furry friend would be adopted and brought home at the very beginning of the summer, when the kids were done with school but hadn't yet started their summer activities. He also convinced them to take a few books about dog training out of the library.

The actual adoption process went fairly smoothly. Rachel was entirely moved by the process of taking in a rescue animal, and if left to her own devices she probably would have adopted three or four pets from the shelter. Ultimately, the kids decided on a friendly male retriever-mix puppy who they named Riley (after their favorite Brooklyn Nets player).

"Someone brought him here after finding him on Union Street near the Gowanus Canal," a shelter employee told the family. "We estimate him to be about six months old. Even though he's one of the younger pups we've taken in, he's not in such bad shape. Friendly, fairly obedient, not too excitable."

The kids were ecstatic, taking turns holding Riley's leash as they walked him home. The cheerful scene brought a smile to Finn's face even though he'd been against the acquisition of a pet.

He was also impressed by how attentive they were to their new responsibilities. During that first week of dog ownership Finn heard the kids talking about poop and a pair of flip-flops destroyed when they left Riley alone for "two minutes", but other than that they didn't complain. Most importantly, the dog was already responding to commands such as "sit" and "stay."

For the time-being, the plan was to keep Riley behind a baby-gate in the kitchen when the kids weren't around to watch him. Celine had grumbled something about the gate being "inhumane," but then Rachel reminded her about the flip-flops and she agreed that it would be better to restrict Riley's movement around the house until they were sure that he'd behave.

Finn's moment of truth came on Monday morning, when Celine had her basketball clinic and Billy his karate class. Rachel also breezed out of the house relatively early to Finding himself the only human in the house, he settled in at the kitchen table to read the latest edition of his favorite New York City restaurant trade journal.

A few sentences into the first column, he heard whining coming from the gate along the kitchen entrance. Sighing, he looked over in the direction and saw the whimpering puppy staring at him longingly.

"Don't look at me like that," Finn warned. Feeling entirely ridiculous for talking to the dog, he quickly looked back down at his reading.

When the whimpering continued, Finn reluctantly approached the gate and let Riley out, leading him by the collar over to the table.

"Stay," Finn commanded, warily resuming his reading while monitoring Riley out of the corner of his eye. Then, rather absently, he found himself reaching down every so often to scratch Riley between the ears. The dog responded happily each time, pressing his nose into Finn's leg.

Eventually, he leapt up on his hindquarters and planted his front paws on Finn's lap, tail wagging rapidly back and forth.

Using his minimum canine interpretation skills, Finn was able to guess what that meant.

"Fine!" he groaned in defeat, walking over to the couch with the puppy following eagerly on his heels. When he took a seat, Riley jumped up to join him, happily settling his face on Finn's lap.

"If you pee on the couch, this friendship will be over before it even began," he informed the animal, scratching Riley's ears with one hand and holding the magazine in the other.

Riley yawned in response, thumping his tail against the cushion.

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AN2: See, Finn was secretly a dog lover the whole time.

Review? :-)


	13. More Than Just A Game For Two

**Hello faithful readers, and welcome to another installment of this tale. Aside from his discovery of cooking, the Chef!Finn 'verse is basically canon through the end of S2… so consider this vignette AU early-S3.**

**Thanks to Hailee for suggesting the song and Emily for the beta. Same usual disclaimers that I don't own the Glee characters or song lyrics and do not intend any infringement.**

**Oh, and this is Rated M.**

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Finn smiled when he awoke with Rachel in his arms.

It was the third Sunday in November, their senior year of high school. His mom and Burt were away in The Bahamas celebrating their anniversary. Rachel's dads thought that Finn was away as well and that she was staying with Kurt… who was actually at Blaine's.

Finn might have felt guilty about their web of lies if he wasn't still basking in the glow of the previous night's activities. He and Rachel had recently started having sex, so it was especially awesome that they'd managed to get the house to themselves to refine their newfound skills.

But it wasn't just the sex that had him on cloud nine. Before all that, they'd spent a nice day in the park and evening at home, cooking and eating dinner and snuggling by the fire. Afterward, they brushed their teeth together and got into bed. It all felt so grown up and comfortable and… _perfect_.

After this taste of living together, Finn _really _hoped he could go to New York with Rachel for college. She was going to have her pick of NYU, NYADA, and Julliard but his plans were completely up in the air. If he was going to play football it'd likely be at a D-III school, but Coach Beiste helped him send tapes to a few teeny tiny D-Is in the New York area. Meanwhile, the more he cooked for his family and Rachel, the more they all thought he should pursue that as a career. Still, it was only November; he had plenty of time to figure out a way to make it to the big city with his girl. He'd give anything to make sure that they could wake up together every day for as long as they lived.

While his mind wandered ahead to their future, Rachel stirred and turned towards him.

"Mmmm…. good morning…" she breathed into his chest before yawning daintily.

"Morning," he replied quietly, kissing the top of her head and stroking a few strands of her wavy hair that had fanned out behind her. "How'd you sleep?"

"Wonderfully," she said, pulling back so he had a full view of her gorgeous face. Even having just woken up she was stunning – cheeks rosy from the warmth shared between their bodies; eyes bright and regarding him with utmost adoration.

Unable to help himself, he placed a kiss on her sumptuous mouth. "Good."

Rachel yawned again and stretched her arms above her head. "What time is it?" she asked, craning over Finn's body to glance at his bedside clock.

Then, as if activating into some kind of emergency superhero mode, she gasped and sat up abruptly. "Finn! It's already 10:30!"

"Uh, yeah. So? It's Sunday, we don't have anywhere to, like, be… right?" He felt himself wincing at the thought that he may have forgotten some important plans and tried his best to smile instead.

"True, but we can't just stay in bed all day!" Rachel exclaimed as though the idea was the most obvious thing in the world. Then her expression softened. "And I thought maybe we could go to that '50s-style diner in Ada for breakfast, to commemorate the special occasion of our first sleepover."

Finn couldn't help but smile at her winsomely sweet expression, doe-eyes framed by long curled lashes. "That sounds great, Rach."

"You're the best!" she squealed, kissing him soundly before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and putting on her slippers.

(Yeah, she brought slippers. His girl liked to be prepared, okay?)

"I'll be in the shower!" she said happily as she made off down the hall to the bathroom, a bag of toiletries and her robe in tow.

Finn chuckled at the sight and took a deep breath, readying himself to get up. Based on what he knew about Rachel's bathing habits, he figured she needed a bit of a head-start before he joined her.

He used the few minutes of solitude to retreat to the kitchen for a quick snack. Yeah they were going out for breakfast, but if he had his way in the shower it would be past lunchtime before they left the house, and his stomach was already rumbling a bit.

He quickly prepared a piece of toast with peanut butter and ate it in roughly 4 bites, washing it down with a glass of milk.

Hunger satisfied (the food kind, anyway), Finn made a beeline back upstairs and towards the closed bathroom door. He heard the shower running and the sound of Rachel singing along with her iPod.

Just to be safe, he knocked.

"Come in!" She practically sang the words, which made his smile even wider than it already was.

Once Finn had entered the bathroom, simultaneously shucking off his boxers, she'd returned her vocal efforts to the song that was playing. He recognized it as being from The Sound of Music but couldn't remember its name.

His brain was failing him due to the amazing sight in front of his eyes.

Obviously he'd seen Rachel naked plenty of times but she'd never looked more beautiful than she did while surrounded by the steam of the hot shower, using a loofah sponge to scrub soapsuds all over her tiny, amazing body. Her hair was covered with a thick layer of conditioner so it looked greasy and flat to her head, but it was still long and dark and hanging down her back in waves.

"Well hello," she said with a laugh when he slid the glass door open and stepped in beside her.

Since she wasn't standing under the water he used the opportunity to duck underneath it. Once he was sufficiently wet they swapped places… but not before he leaned down to kiss her soundly, unable to help himself.

While washing his own body Finn stared at Rachel's, appreciating the way the water weaved its way through her gorgeous hair and ran down over her olive skin.

Then, over the din of their activities Finn heard the song change. He immediately recognized it as one that his grandparents used to sing while making dinner together… and that Rachel played occasionally.

Overcome with a silly idea, he stepped toward Rachel just as the lyrics started.

"'_L' is for the way you look at me_," he sang, catching her by surprise.

"Finn!" she squealed excitedly.

"_O is for the only one I see…_" He pointed the bar of soap at Rachel, and she got the hint.

"'_V' is very, very extraordinary_," she answered in time with the music, mile-wide grin on her face. "'_E' is even more than anyone that you adore and…_"

"_Love is all that I can give to you_," Finn continued, his eyes narrowing as he embellished his delivery. "_Love is more than just a game for two…_"

"Wait, wait, wait!" she said with a laugh, playfully slapping his soapy chest. "You were sharp on that last line!"

Since Rachel was criticizing him instead of singing, Finn kept going with the song while he lathered shampoo through his hair. "_Two in love can make it. Take my heart and please don't break it…_"

Rachel merely rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her bare chest, cocking her head in silent judgment of his humorous rendition.

"Come on, Rach, it's not a big deal," he laughed, leaning under the spray to rinse off.

"_Finn_," Rachel replied in a serious tone, not moving from her spot in the corner of the shower. "Every performance should be flawless! You're very talented and need to treat all of your singing with the utmost earnestness!"

"I'm sorry, babe," Finn insisted, making sure his heartfelt gaze caught Rachel's eye.

She sighed in response, her body relaxing visibly and her arms falling away from in front of her. Finn gently rubbed the sides of her arms, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

When they made eye contact again, he raised one eyebrow. "Is there… anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked huskily.

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Rachel shivered, and it wasn't because of a change in the water temperature.

Part of her wanted to roll her eyes at her boyfriend's implication that anything could be fixed with sex. Besides, she wasn't _really_ angry with him. But it wasn't just about the sex with them, she realized; especially after the past 24 hours. She felt closer to him than ever and all the domesticity had her thinking light-years down the road to their hypothetical future.

For the time being, she figured it couldn't hurt to take Finn up on his offer.

She reached over to shut off the water and then slid the shower door open.

He studied her movements, his gaze at once playful and yet also full of desire and heat. Without taking his eyes off of her he reached behind him for a towel, which he immediately wrapped around her body. As he dried Rachel off Finn stepped closer to her, bending to plant kisses on her jaw and neck while he skimmed the towel down her back, past her butt, and over her legs.

"Finn…" she breathed, her eyes involuntarily closing at the feeling of his soft lips fluttering along her skin and his hands cupping her breasts as he dried them as well.

When he straightened back to his full height she took the towel in her hands, wrapping it around him the same way he'd done for her.

She had to bite back a grin because Finn was just so tall and broad that she had a much more difficult time reciprocating the task. Still, she ran the fluffy cotton over his back and shoulders, feeling his muscles twitch under the contact and his breath hitch when she toweled off his chest and stomach.

When she advanced lower along his taut body Rachel found herself confronted by Finn's very prominent erection. _That_ made her smile because it was quite flattering that she'd barely touched him and already he was raring to go.

She took care to dry that area delicately, barely dragging the towel along his heated skin.

"Rach…" he groaned through gritted teeth, gently placing a large hand on her bare shoulder.

She looked up at him while she hurriedly dried his legs, unconsciously licking her lips when she observed his handsome face laden with arousal.

Immediately after she tossed the towel aside, Finn's lips were on her own, his hands on her hips. Her hands flew to his chest to steady herself while his tongue pushed its way into her mouth. Amidst the kiss Finn carefully stepped backward out of the shower and onto the bathmat, guiding Rachel along with him. When he reached for the bathroom door, though, she got an idea.

"Wait!" She wriggled out of his grasp. "You know what Kurt says about moisturizing, right?" she said in response to Finn's confused expression, reaching to shut off her blaring iPod so they could actually hear one anothr.

"'Not moisturizing after a shower is a sin,'" he replied absently, watching while she took the bottle of moisturizer out of her bag and poured some into her hand.

Indulging in the rapt attention of the very naked Finn, Rachel took her time applying it to each of her legs before moving on to her stomach. While he watched, Finn inched closer to her, eyes smoldering as though they might burn a hole right through her. Then, just as she was about to rub the remaining lotion on her chest—

"Let me." With that his large hand replaced her much smaller one, fingertips moving in a slow circle and spreading the moisturizer along the underside of her breast before cupping the pert mound altogether. Rachel gasped when he lightly pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, simultaneously reaching for the moisturizer bottle with his free hand so that her other breast could receive the same treatment.

She'd really only intended to tease him a little bit but wasn't about to complain now that his deft hands were working their magic on her sensitive peaks.

"_Finn_," Rachel groaned, gripping his shoulder with one hand and resting the other on the nearby counter to steady herself.

His mouth twitched into a subtly sly smile, clearly encouraged by the effect his ministrations were having on her. Then he slipped one lotion-covered hand down along her stomach and past her center, lightly rubbing her inner thighs. Needless to say the teasing had awakened her already stirring loins. Each time she thought his fingertips would _finally_ slip between her folds they merely retreated, but she needed _more_.

"Finn, _**please**_…" she whined in protest to the continued teasing.

He relented, running one finger along her slit and around her sensitive nub before finally sliding it into her opening.

Rachel's response was a deep, wordless moan.

Her knees hopelessly wobbly, she involuntarily leaned against his tall, strong body. In so doing she felt the heat of his hardened length against her abdomen, which only added to her intense arousal. Meanwhile, his finger began moving inside her.

"F-Finn," she sputtered, her hand moving from his shoulder to his lower back, pressing her fingertips into his taut skin.

"What, Rach?" he whispered huskily in her ear, trailing kisses around it afterward.

She didn't have the capacity to formulate a precise verbal answer, but she managed to let go of the counter and wrap her other hand around his erect cock. After she pumped him a few times Finn turned her around and pressed her against the counter. Looking at their reflection in the mirror, she saw him align himself with her opening and unceremoniously slip inside her.

"Ohh!" she cried, surprised by how deep he seemed to go at the angle created by her stance. In the short time they'd been having intercourse they'd yet to experiment with any positions involving standing or entry from behind.

Finn moved slowly at first, gripping her hips and purposefully burying himself within her before pulling out almost all the way. His thrusts quickly stoked the fire burning inside her and she found herself involuntarily pushing back to meet his movements. Then one of his hands trailed up her back and gently pressed her forward until she was fully bent over with her chest resting on the counter.

Not being able to see him in the mirror increased her attentiveness to other signals – his husky, shallow breathing and the oddly arousing sensation of his fingers digging into the skin of her side. Meanwhile he was pumping her harder and faster and without pulling out as much. The juncture of her slightly spread legs was pressed firmly against the front of the counter, and each of his strokes sent a jolt through her throbbing center.

"Yes… Yes!" she gasped as she tumbled over the edge, reveling in the feeling of his hardness within her pulsating walls and the wave that washed outward from her core and through her limbs. A moment later he grunted his release and she sighed as he exploded inside her, his chest falling onto her back after the exhaustion of their activities.

"That was so hot, baby," he murmured in her ear, brushing her hair to the side and kissing her neck.

Rachel exhaled dramatically. "I'll say."

Finn peeled himself off of her and they both stretched, warding off the stiffness caused by their endeavor.

He offered her the towel and she accepted, using it to clean herself off. Then he took her bathrobe down from the hook on the wall and held it out so she could put it on.

"Oh, I won't be needing that for a while," Rachel said with a wink as she pushed him out the door and down the hall towards his bedroom, her robe forgotten on the bathroom floor.

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_**Reviews appreciated!**_


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